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Kate  Doujlas  Wig|in 

Findlater 
Jane  Findlater 
Allan  M^Aulau 


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THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN 


't   Qofcjright,  19W,  Jty  thtf  C^His^Pwfelisi'ing  Co. 

"  Do   YOU   APPROVE   OF   MARRIAGE  ?  "  (page  92) 


Affair  at  the  Inn 

s* 


KateD 
Martj  FincDater 
Jane  Findlater 

Allan  NFAttW 
-•  ;*••» 


J?«S    •.    '>/•'.  :  -: 

BOSTON  AND  NEWTORKa 

Hou0fiton,Mi2Hn.  and  Company 


COPYRIGHT   1904   BY   HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN    &    CO. 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  September,  1904 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM    DRAWINGS    BY    MARTIN   JUSTICE 

PAGE 

"  Do  you  approve  of  marriage  ?  "  (page  92)  . 

Frontispiece 

"  I  will  stick  these  in  ...  if  you  will  do  the  roll 
ing  up  "    24 

"  Look  out  for  yourself  !  Shin  up  that  bank  !  "  .  68 
The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  MacGill  came  walking  in  110 
I  cannot  say  she  looked  plain,  however  .  .  .  166 

Something  ...  in  my  breast  .  .  .  melted  entirely 

at  that  moment 214 


31S976 


jLjLN  account  of  certain  events  which  are  supposed  to 
have  occurred  in  the  month  of  May,  19 — ,  at  a  quiet 
country  inn  on  Dartmoor,  in  Devonshire ;  the  events 
being  recorded  by  the  persons  most  interested  in  the 
unfolding  of  the  little  international  comedy. 

The  story  is  written  by  four  authors,  each  author 
being  responsible  for  one  character,  as  follows  :  — 

Miss  VIRGINIA  POMEROY,  of  Richmond,  Virginia, 
U.  S.  A.,  by  Kate  Douglas  Wig  gin. 

MRS.  MAcGiLL,  of  Tunbridge  Wells,  England,  by 
Mary  Findlater,  author  of  "  The  Rose  of  Joy." 

Miss  CECILIA  EVESHAM,  Mrs.  MacGill's  English  com 
panion,  by  Jane  Helen  Findlater,  author  of  "  The 
Green  Graves  of  Balgowrie." 

SIR  ARCHIBALD  MAXWELL  MACKENZIE,  of  Kindar- 
roch,  N.  B.,  by  Allan  McAulay,  author  of  "  The 
Rhymer." 


THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE 


Virginia  Pomeroy 

DARTMOOR,  DEVONSHIRE 
THE  GREY  TOR 

Tuesday,  May  l&th,  19— 

\ 

HEN  my  poor  father  died  five  years  ago, 
the  doctor  told  my  mother  that  she  must 
have  an  entire  change.  We  left  America  at 
once,  and  we  have  been  travelling  ever  since, 
always  in  the  British  Isles,  as  the  sound  of 
foreign  languages  makes  mamma  more  ner 
vous.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  doctor  did 
not  advise  eternal  change,  but  that  is  the 
interpretation  mamma  has  placed  upon  his 
command,  and  so  we  are  forever  moving  on, 
like  What  Vhis-name  in  "  Bleak  House." 
It  is  not  so  extraordinary,  then,  that  we  are 
in  the  Devonshire  moorlands,  because  one 
1 


2  THE  AFFAIR 

cannot  travel  incessantly  for  four  years  in 
the  British  Isles  without  being  everywhere, 
inv8Qurs^pf  :time.  That  is  what  I  said  to  a 
disagreeable,  frumpy  Englishwoman  in  the 
railway  carriage  yesterday. 

"  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  Great  Brit 
ain/'  I  said,  "except  that  it  is  so  circum 
scribed  !  I  have  outgrown  my  first  feeling, 
which  was  a  fear  of  falling  off  the  edge ; 
but  I  still  have  a  sensation  of  being  cabined, 
cribbed,  confined." 

She  remarked  that  she  had  always  pre 
ferred  a  small,  perfectly  finished,  and  well- 
managed  estate  to  a  large,  rank,  wild,  and 
overgrown  one,  and  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
I  think  the  retort  was  a  good  one.  It  must 
have  been,  for  it  silenced  me. 

We  have  done  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
Wales,  and  having  begun  at  the  top  of  the 
map,  have  gone  as  far  as  Devon  in  England. 
We  have  been  travelling  by  counties  during 
the  last  year,  because  it  seemed  tidier  and 
more  thorough  and  businesslike ;  less  con- 


AT  THE  INN  3 

fusing  too,  for  the  places  look  so  alike  after 
a  while  that  I  can  never  remember  where 
we  have  been  without  looking  in  my  diary. 
I  don't  know  what  will  come  after  England, 
—  perhaps  Australia  and  New  Zealand.  I 
suppose  they  speak  English  there,  of  a  sort. 

If  complete  ignorance  of  a  place,  com 
bined  with  great  power  of  appreciation  when 
one  is  introduced  to  it,  —  if  these  constitute 
a  favourable  mental  attitude,  then  I  have 
achieved  it.  That  Devonshire  produces  Lanes, 
Dumplings,  Cider,  Monoliths,  Clouted  Cream, 
and  Moors  I  know,  but  all  else  in  the  way  of 
knowledge  or  experience  is  to  be  the  captive 
of  my  bow  and  spear. 

It  is  one  of  the  accidents  of  travel  that 
one  can  never  explain,  our  being  here  on 
this  desolate  moor,  caged,  with  half  a  dozen 
strange  people,  in  a  little  inn  at  the  world's 
end. 

In  the  hotel  at  Exeter  mamma  met  in  the 
drawino'-room  a  certain  Mrs.  MacGill.  who 

O  7 

like  herself  was  just  recovering  from  the  in- 


4  THE  AFFAIR 

fluenza.  Our  paths  have  crossed  before ;  I 
hope  they  '11  not  do  so  too  often.  Huddled 
in  their  shawls,  and  seated  as  near  to  the 
chilling  hotel  fire  as  was  possible,  they  dis 
cussed  their  symptoms,  while  I  read  "  Lorna 
Doone."  Mrs.  MacGill  slept  ill  at  night  and 
found  a  glass  of  milk-arrowroot  with  a  tea 
spoon  of  brandy  and  a  Bath  Oliver  biscuit 
a  panacea ;  mamma  would  not  allow  that 
any  one  could  sleep  worse  than  she,  but  re 
commended  a  peppermint  lozenge,  as  being 
simple,  convenient,  and  efficacious.  Mrs. 
MacGill  had  a  slight  cough,  so  had  mamma ; 
Mrs.  MacGill's  chest  was  naturally  weak,  so 
was  mamma's.  Startlingly  similar  as  were 
the  paths  by  which  they  were  travelling  to 
the  grave,  they  both  looked  in  average  health, 
mamma  being  only  prettily  delicate  and  Mrs. 
MacGill  being  fat  and  dumpy,  with  cap 
ribbons  and  shoulder  capes  and  bugles  and 
brooches  that  bespoke  at  least  a  languid 
interest  in  life.  The  nice  English  girl  who 
was  Mrs.  MacGill's  companion  in  the  railway 


AT  THE  INN  5 

train,  sat  in  the  background  knitting  and 
reading,  —  the  kind  of  girl  who  ought  to 
look  young  and  does  n't,  because  her  youth 
has  been  feeding  somebody's  selfish  old  age. 
I  could  see  her  quiet  history  written  all  over 
her  face,  —  her  aged  father,  vicar  of  some 
remote  parish  ;  her  weary  mother,  harassed 
with  the  cares  of  a  large  family  ;  and  the 
dull  little  vicarage  from  whose  windows  she 
had  taken  her  narrow  peeps  at  life.  We  ex 
changed  glances  at  some  of  Mrs.  MacGill's 
reminiscences,  and  I  was  grateful  to  see  that 
she  has  a  sense  of  humour.  That  will  help  her 
considerably  if  she  is  a  paid  companion,  as  I 
judge  she  is;  one  would  hardly  travel  with 
Mrs.  MacGill  for  pleasure.  This  lady  at 
length  crowded  mamma  to  the  wall  and  be 
gan  on  the  details  of  an  attack  of  brain  fever 
from  which  she  had  suffered  at  the  Bridge 

o 

of  Allan  thirty  years  ago,  and  I  left  the 
room  to  seek  a  breath  of  fresh  air. 

There  is  never  anything  amusing  going 
on  in  an  English  hotel.    When  I  remember 


6  THE  AFFAIR 

the  life  one  lives  during  a  week  at  the 
Waldorf-Astoria  or  the  Holland  House  in 
New  York,  it  fairly  makes  me  yearn  with 
homesickness.  It  goes  like  this  with  a  girl 
whose  friends  are  all  anxious  to  make  the 
time  pass  merrily. 

Monday  noon :  Luncheon  at  the  Univer 
sity  Club  with  H.  L.  and  mamma. 

Monday  afternoon :  Drive  with  G.  P.  in 
a  hansom.  Tea  at  Maillard's.  Violets  from 

A.  B.?  American  Beauty  roses  from  C.  D. 
waiting  in  my  room.    Dinner  and  the  play 
arranged  for  me  by  E.  F. 

Tuesday  :  One  love  letter  and  one  propo 
sal  by  the  morning  mail ;  the  proposal  from 
a  Harvard  Freshman  who  wishes  me  to  wait 
until  he  finishes  his  course.  No  one  but  a 
Freshman  would  ever  have  thought  of  that ! 
G.  H.  from  Chicago  and  B.  C.  from  Rich 
mond  arrive  early  and  join  us  at  breakfast. 

B.  C.  thinks  G.    H.  might  have  remained 
at  home  to  good  advantage.  G.  H.  wonders 
why  B.  C.  couldn't  have  stayed  where  he 


AT  THE  INN  7 

was  less  in  the  way.  Luncheon  party  given 
by  G.  H.  at  one.  Dinner  by  B.  C.  at 
seven. 

Wednesday  :  Last  fitting  for  three  lovely 
dresses. 

Thursday  :  Wear  them  all.  The  result 
of  one  of  them  attention  with  intention  from 
the  fastidious  A.  B. 

And  so  on.  It  would  doubtless  spoil  one 
in  time,  but  I  have  only  had  two  weeks  of  it, 
all  put  together. 

The  hall  of  the  hotel  at  Exeter  was  like 
all  other  English  hotel  halls ;  so  damp,  dis 
mal,  dull,  and  dreary,  that  it  is  a  wonder 
English  travellers  are  not  all  sleeping  in 
suicides'  graves.  Were  my  eyes  deceiving 
me  or  was  there  a  motor  at  the  door,  and 
still  more  wonderful,  was  there  a  young, 
good-looking  man  directly  in  my  path,  —  a 
healthy  young  man  with  no  symptoms,  a 
well-to-do  young  man  with  a  perfectly  ap 
pointed  motor,  a  well-bred,  presentable  young 
man  with  an  air  of  the  world  about  him  ? 


8  THE  AFFAIR 

How  my  heart,  starving  for  amusement, 
rushed  out  to  him  after  these  last  weary 
months  of  nursing  at  Leamington  !  I  did  n't 
want  to  marry  him,  of  course,  but  I  wanted 
to  talk  to  him  ;  to  ride  in  his  motor ;  to 
have  him,  in  short,  for  a  masculine  safety 
valve.  He  showed  no  symptom  of  requiring 
me  for  any  purpose  whatever.  That  is  the 
trouble  with  the  men  over  here,  —  so  oblivi 
ous,  so  rigid,  so  frigid,  so  conventional;  so 
afraid  of  being  chloroformed  and  led  uncon 
scious  to  the  altar  !  He  was  smoking  a  pipe, 
and  he  looked  at  me  in  a  vague  sort  of  way. 
I  confess  I  don't  like  to  be  looked  at  vaguely, 
and  I  am  not  accustomed  to  it.  He  could  n't 
know  that,  of  course,  but  I  should  like  to 
teach  him  if  only  I  had  the  chance  and  time. 
I  don't  suppose  he  knew  that  I  was  wearing 
a  Redfern  gown  and  hat,  but  the  conscious 
ness  supported  me  in  the  casual  encounter. 
Naturally  he  could  not  seek  an  introduction 
to  me  in  a  hotel  hall,  nor  could  we  speak  to 
each  other  without  one. 


AT  THE  INN  9 

His  chauffeur  went  up  to  him  presently, 
touched  his  hat,  and  I  thought  he  said, 
"  Quite  ready,  Sir  —  Something;  "  I  did  n't 
catch  the  name. 

Well,  he  bowled  off,  and  I  comforted  my 
self  with  the  thought  that  mamma  and  I 
were  at  least  on  our  way  to  pastures  new,  if 
they  were  only  Dawlish  or  Torquay  pastures ; 
or  perhaps  something  bracing  in  the  shape 
of  Dartmoor  forests,  if  mamma  listens  to  Mrs. 
MacGilL 

The  owner  of  the  motor  appeared  again 
at  our  dinner  table,  a  long  affair  set  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  all  the  small  tables  being 
occupied  by  uninteresting  nobodies  who  ate 
and  drank  as  much,  and  took  up  as  much 
room,  as  if  they  had  been  somebodies. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  young  Brit 
isher  did  not,  like  the  busy  bee,  improve  the 
shining  hour  —  that  sort  of  bee  does  n't 
know  honey  when  he  sees  it.  He  did  n't 
even  pass  me  the  salt,  which  in  a  Christian 
country  is  not  considered  a  compromising 


10  THE  AFFAIR 

attention.  I  think  that  too  many  of  Great 
Britain's  young  men  must  have  been  killed 
off  in  South  Africa,  and  those  remaining 
have  risen  to  an  altogether  fictitious  value. 
I  suppose  this  Sir  Somebody  thinks  my  eyes 
are  fixed  on  his  coronet,  if  he  has  one  rust 
ing  in  his  upper  drawer  awaiting  its  supreme 
moment  of  presentation.  He  is  mistaken  ;  I 
am  thinking  only  of  his  motor.  Heigh  ho  ! 
If  marriage  as  an  institution  could  be  re 
tained,  and  all  thought  of  marriage  banished 
from  the  minds  of  the  young  of  both  sexes, 
how  delightful  society  could  be  made  for  all 
parties  !  I  can  see  that  such  a  state  of  things 
would  be  quite  impossible,  but  it  presents 
many  advantages. 


AT  THE  INN  11 


Mrs.  MacGill 

EXETER,  DEVONSHIRE 
ROUGEMONT  CASTLE  HOTEL 

Sunday,  May  16^,  19 — 

I  HAVE  made  out  my  journey  from  Tun- 
bridge  Wells  in  safety,  although  there  has 
been  a  break-down  upon  the  Scotch  Express, 
which  is  a  cause  of  thankfulness.  There 
were  two  American  women  in  the  same  car 
riage  part  of  the  time.  The  mother  was, 
like  myself,  an  invalid,  and  the  daughter  I 
suppose  would  be  considered  pretty.  She 
was  not  exactly  painted,  but  must  have  done 
something  to  her  skin,  I  think,  probably  pre 
judicial  like  the  advertisements ;  it  was  really 
waxen,  and  her  hair  decidedly  dark  —  and 
such  a  veil !  It  reminded  me  of  the  expres 
sion  about  "  power  on  the  head"  in  Corin 
thians  —  not  that  she  seemed  to  require  it, 
for  she  rang  no  less  than  eight  times  for  the 
guard,  each  time  about  some  different  whim- 


12  THE  AFFAIR 

sey.  The  boy  only  grinned,  yet  he  was  quite 
rude  to  me  when  I  asked  him,  only  for  the 
second  time,  where  we  changed  carriages 
next.  Cecilia  spoke  a  good  deal  to  the  girl, 
who  made  her  laugh  constantly,  in  spite  of 
her  neuralgia,  which  was  very  inconsistent 
and  provoking  to  me,  as  she  had  not  uttered 
a  word  for  hours  after  we  left  Tunbridge 
Wells.  The  mother  seemed  a  very  delicate, 
sensible  person,  suffering  from  exactly  the 
same  form  of  influenza  as  myself  —  indeed 
many  of  our  symptoms  are  identical.  They 
happened  to  be  going  to  this  hotel,  too,  so 
we  met  again  in  the  afternoon.  I  had  a  bad 
night.  Exeter  is  small,  but  the  Cathedral 
chimes  are  very  tiresome ;  they  kept  me 
awake  as  if  on  purpose ;  Cecilia  slept,  as 
neuralgic  people  seem  often  able  to  do. 

Somehow  I  do  not  fancy  the  idea  of  Dart 
moor  at  all.  It  may  brace  Cecilia,  but  it  will 
be  too  cold  for  me,  I  'm  sure.  I  must  send 
for  my  black  velvet  mantle  —  the  one  with 
the  beads  at  the  neck,  as  it  will  be  the  very 


AT  THE  INN  13 

thing  for  the  moor.  At  present  I  have  no 
thing  quite  suitable  to  wear.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  skirt  about  Americans,  I  see.  Even 
the  mother  rustled ;  all  silk,  yet  the  dresses 
on  the  top  were  plain  enough.  As  I  had 
nothing  to  read  in  the  train,  I  bought  a  six 
penny  copy  of  a  book  called  "  The  Forest 
Lovers,"  but  could  not  get  on  with  it  at  all, 
and  what  I  did  make  out  seemed  scarcely 
proper,  so  I  took  up  a  novel  which  Mrs. 
Pomeroy  (the  American)  lent  me,  by  a  man 
with  a  curious  Scriptural  name  —  something 
like  Phillpotts.  It  was  entirely  about  Dart 
moor,  and  gave  a  most  alarming  account  of 
the  scenery  and  inhabitants.  I  'm  sure  I  hope 
we  shall  be  safe  at  Grey  Tor  Inn.  Some  of 
the  wilder  parts  must  be  quite  dangerous 
—  storms  —  wild  cattle  roaming  about,  and 
Tors  everywhere. 


14  THE  AFFAIR 

Mrs.  MacGill 

DARTMOOR,  DEVONSHIRE 

THE  GREY  TOR  IXN 
Tuesday,  May  18^,  19— 

I  WISH  I  had  brought  winter  flannels  with 
me.  It  is  all  very  well  to  call  it  the  middle 
of  May  on  Dartmoor,  but  it  is  as  cold  as 
the  middle  of  winter  in  Aberdeen.  There 
may  be  something  odd  about  the  red  soil 
that  accounts  for  flowers  coming  out  in  spite 
of  it,  for  certainly  there  are  primroses  and 
violets  on  the  banks,  a  good  many,  —  very 
like  flowers  in  a  hat. 

We  met  Miss  Pomeroy,  the  American  girl, 
in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel.  She  said  that  her 
mother  was  resting-  in  the  drawing-room.  Like 

o  o 

me,  she  seems  to  suffer  from  shivering  fits. 
"  I  can't  imagine,"  I  said,  "  why  any  doctor 
should  have  ordered  me  to  such  a  place  as 
this  to  recover  from  influenza,  which  is  just 
another  form  of  cold."  The  windows  look 
straight  out  on  Grey  Tor.  It  is,  of  course,  as 


AT  THE  INN  15 

the  guide-books  say,  "  a  scene  of  great  sub 
limity  and  grandeur/'  but  very  dreary;  it 
is  not  mountain,  and  not  what  we  would  call 
moor,  either,  in  Scotland  —  just  a  crumpled 
country,  with  boulders  here  and  there.  Grey 
Tor  is  the  highest  point  we  can  see  —  not 
very  lonely,  I  am  glad  to  say,  for  little  black 
people  are  always  walking  up  and  down  it, 
like  flies  on  a  confectioner's  window,  and 
there  is  a  railing  on  the  top. 

There  is  a  young  man  here,  who,  I  was 
surprised  to  find,  is  a  nephew  of  the  uncle 
of  my  poor  brother-in-law,  Colonel  Forsyth, 
who  died  in  a  moment  at  Agra.  Sir  William 
Maxwell  Mackenzie  used  to  be  often  at  the 
Forsyths,  before  his  death.  This  young  man's 
name  is  Archibald,  and  he  drives  a  motor.  I 
sat  next  him  at  dinner,  and  we  had  quite  a 
pleasant  little  chat  about  my  poor  brother-in- 
law's  sudden  death  and  funeral.  Miss  Pome- 
roy  ate  everything  on  the  table  and  talked  a 
great  deal.  Cecilia  said  she  wasn't  able  to 
come  down  to  dinner,  but,  as  usual,  ate  more 


16  THE  AFFAIR 

than  I  could,  upstairs.  Like  me,  Mrs.  Pome- 
roy  finds  the  Devonshire  cream  very  heavy. 
The  daughter  and  Sir  Archibald  finished 
nearly  the  whole  dish,  although  it  was  a  large 
china  basin. 


AT  THE  INN  17 


Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie,  Bart. 

GREY  TOR  INN 

I  MUST  get  away  from  these  women  at  all 
costs.  People  may  say  what  they  like,  but 
there  's  no  question  that  nothing  is  more 
destructive  to  comfort  than  the  society  of 
ladies.  A  man  cannot  smoke,  nor  wear  the 
clothes  nor  use  the  language  that  he  wants 
to  when  they  are  present,  —  so  what  is  the 
use  of  pretending,  as  some  fellows  do,  that 
they  add  to  the  pleasantness  of  life  ?  I  cer 
tainly  thought  that  by  coming  to  these  out- 
of-the-way  parts  in  the  motor,  with  no  one 
but  my  servant,  I  should  be  free  of  the 
women ;  but  no  such  luck !  In  the  hotel  at 
Exeter  there  was  a  batch  of  them,  —  some 
Americans,  of  course,  particularly  a  girl, 
so  deuced  lively  she  could  not  be  ignored. 
I  dislike  the  whole  girl-tribe  with  all  my 


18  THE  AFFAIR 

heart,  and  I  dislike  the  kittenish  ones  most : 
they  're  a  positive  pest. 

This  is  a  rum  sort  of  country,  —  a  sort  of 
inferior  Scotland,  I  should  call  it ;  but  if  you 
were  to  say  that  to  the  artist  chaps  and 
writing  fellows  you  meet  about  here,  they 
would  murder  you.  There  is  a  lot  of  rot 
talked  about  everything  in  this  world,  but 
there 's  more  and  worse  rot  talked  about 
scenery  than  anything  else.  For  instance, 
people  will  yarn  away  about  "  the  blue  Med 
iterranean,"  but  it 's  not  a  bit  bluer  than 
any  other  sea,  —  the  English  Channel,  for 
example ;  any  sea  will  be  blue  if  the  sky  is 
blue.  I  suppose  it  earns  somebody's  living 
to  talk  and  write  all  this  sort  of  stuff,  and 
get  idiots  to  believe  it.  Here  they  are  al 
ways  jawing  away  about  "  giant  monoliths  " 
and  wonderful  colossal  stone-formations  on 
the  moor,  till  you  really  think  there  's  some 
thing  rather  fine  to  be  seen.  And  what  are 
the  giant  monoliths  ?  Two  or  three  ordinary 
sorts  of  stones  set  up  on  end  on  a  mound  ! 
What  rot ! 


AT  THE  INN  19 

This  is  a  goodish  hotel,  and  the  roads  so  far 
have  been  all  right  for  the  motor ;  we  have 
come  along  fairly  well ;  Johnson  can  drive 
a  bit  now,  and  understands  the  machine. 

The  country  was  pretty  decent  for  a  while, 
before  reaching  this ;  plenty  of  trees,  no 
good  for  timber,  though,  and  there  was  a  lot 
of  that  rotten  holly  --I'd  have  it  all  up  if 
it  grew  on  Kindarroch.  And  the  gorse,  too, 
was  very  bad.  There  was  a  fellow  at  Exeter 
—  a  sort  of  artist,  I  conclude,  from  the  non 
sense  he  talked  —  who  said  he  was  coming 
up  here  to  see  the  gorse,  —  came  every  year, 
he  said.  To  see  the  gorse !  To  see  a  lot  of 
dirty  weeds  that  every  sensible  man  wants 
to  root  up  and  burn  !  0  Lord  ! 

This  morning  it  was  rather  fine,  and  I 
was  having  a  smoke  after  breakfast  in  the 
hall,  when  that  American  girl  —  the  one  I 
saw  at  Exeter  —  came  down  the  staircase, 
singing  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  I  knew  she 
was  here,  with  a  mother  in  the  background ; 
she  had  been  fooling  around  the  motor  al- 


20  THE  AFFAIR 

ready,  asking  a  lot  of  silly  questions,  and 
touching  the  handles  and  the  wheels  —  a 
thing  I  can't  bear  —  so  we  had  made  ac 
quaintance  in  a  kind  of  way.  The  artist  at 
Exeter,  I  remember,  asked  me  if  I  did  n't 
think  this  girl  remarkably  pretty,  and  I  told 
him  I  had  n't  looked  to  see,  which  was  per 
fectly  true.  But  you  can't  help  seeing  a  girl 
if  she  's  standing  plump  in  front  of  you.  Of 
course  these  Americans  dress  well  —  no  end 
of  money  to  do  it  on.  This  one  had  a  sort  of 
tam-o'-shanter  thing  on  her  head,  and  a  lot 
of  dark  hair  came  out  under  it,  falling  over 
her  ears,  and  almost  over  her  cheeks  —  un 
tidy,  I  call  it.  She  wore  a  grey  dress,  with  a 
bit  of  scarlet  near  her  neck,  and  a  knot  to 
match  it  under  the  brim  of  her  cap.  I  can 
notice  these  things  when  I  like.  She  has  black 
eyes,  and  knows  how  to  use  them.  I  don't 
like  dark  women  ;  if  you  must  have  a  woman 
about,  I  prefer  pink  and  white  —  it  looks 
clean,  at  any  rate.  The  name  of  these  people 
is  Pomeroy,  Johnson  told  me ;  they  appear 


AT  THE  INN  21 

to  have  got  the  hang  of  mine   at   Exeter ; 
trust  women  for  that  sort  of  thing. 

"  Good-morning,  Sir  Archibald,"  said 
Miss  Porneroy  now,  as  pat  as  you  please. 
"  It 's  a  mighty  pretty  morning,  is  n't  it  ? 
Don't  you  long  for  a  walk  ?  I  do  !  I  'm 
going  right  up  to  that  stone  on  the  slope 
there.  Won't  you  come  along  too?"  A  man 
can  hardly  refuse  outright,  I  suppose,  when 
a  thing  is  put  to  him  point  blank,  like  this, 
and  we  started  together,  I  pretty  glum,  for 
I  made  up  my  mind  I  must  give  up  my 
after-breakfast  pipe,  a  thing  which  puts  me 
out  of  temper  for  the  day.  However,  Miss 
Pomeroy  said  she  liked  smoke,  so  there  was 
a  kind  of  mitigation  in  the  boredom  which 
I  felt  was  before  me. 

Grey  Tor,  as  the  guide-books  call  it,  is 
just  above  the  hotel,  a  sort  of  knob  of  rock 
that  is  thought  a  lot  of  in  these  parts.  (We 
make  road  metal  of  the  same  kind  of  thing 
in  Scotland ;  I  'd  like  to  tell  the  chaps  that 
who  write  all  the  drivel  about  Dartmoor). 


22  THE  AFFAIR 

There  's  an  iron  railing  round  the  top  of  this 
Tor  to  keep  the  tourists  from  falling  off, 
though  they  'd  be  no  loss  if  they  did.  Coach 
loads  of  them  come  every  day,  and  sit  on 
the  top  and  eat  sandwiches,  and  leave  the 
paper  about,  along  with  orange  and  banana 
skins  —  same  as  they  do  at  the  Trossachs 
at  home.  There  's  a  grassy  track  up  to  this 
blessed  Tor,  and  Miss  Pomeroy  and  I  fol 
lowed  it ;  American  women  are  no  good  at 
walking,  and,  in  spite  of  her  slight  figure, 
she  was  puffing  like  a  grampus  in  no  time, 
and  begging  me  to  stop.  We  sat  down  on  a 
rock,  and  soon  she  had  breath  enough  to 
talk.  The  subject  of  names  came  up,  I  for 
get  for  what  reason. 

"  I  like  your  kind  of  name,"  Miss  Pomeroy 
was  good  enough  to  say.  "  I  call  it  downright 
sensible  and  clear,  for  it  tells  what  you  're 
called,  and  gives  your  background  imme 
diately,  don't  you  see  ?  Now  you  could  n't 
tell  what  my  Christian  name  is  without  ask 
ing  —  could  you  ?  " 


AT  THE  INN  23 

"  No,  I  couldn't,"  I  agreed,  and  was  si 
lent.  I  'm  no  hand  at  small  talk.  She  gave 
me  rather  a  funny  look  out  of  her  black  eyes, 
but  I  took  no  notice.  She  seemed  to  want  to 
laugh  —  I  don't  know  why  ;  there 's  nothing 
funny  on  Dartmoor  that  /  can  see.  We  got 
on  to  the  Tor  presently,  and  nothing  would 
satisfy  a  woman,  naturally,  but  climbing  all 
over  the  beastly  thing.  She  had  to  be  helped 
up  and  down,  of  course.  Her  hands  are  very 
white  and  slim ;  they  were  not  at  all  hot,  I 
am  glad  to  say,  as  she  wore  no  gloves,  and  I 
had  to  clutch  them  so  often.  There  was  a 
very  high  wind  up  there,  and  I  'm  blessed  if 
her  hair  did  n't  come  down  and  blow  about. 
It  only  made  her  laugh,  but  I  considered  it 
would  be  indecent  to  walk  back  to  the  hotel 
with  a  woman  in  such  a  dishevelled  state. 

"  I  will  pick  up  the  hairpins,"  I  said  seri 
ously,  "  if  you  will  —  will  do  the  rest."  She 
laughed  and  put  up  her  arms  to  her  head, 
but  brought  them  down  with  a  flop. 

"  I  'm  afraid  my  waist  is  too  tight  in  the 


24  THE  AFFAIR 

sleeves  for  me  to  do  my  hair  up  here  ;  it  '11 
have  to  wait  till  I  get  down  to  the  hotel,"  she 
said  gaily.  I  suppose  she  meant  that  she 
tight-laced,  though  I  could  n't  see  how  her 
waist  could  be  tight  in  the  sleeves.  I  was 
quite  determined  she  should  not  walk  to  the 
hotel  in  my  company  with  her  hair  in  that 
state. 

"  I  will  stick  these  in,"  I  said  firmly,  indi 
cating  the  hairpins,  of  which  I  had  picked 
up  about  a  bushel,  "  if  you  will  do  the  roll 
ing  up."  It  got  done  somehow,  and  I  stuck 
in  the  pins.  I  never  touched  a  woman's  hair 
before ;  how  beastly  it  must  be  to  have  all 
that  on  one's  head  —  unhealthy,  too.  I  dare 
say  it  accounts  for  the  feebleness  of  women's 
brains.  Miss  Pomeroy's  cheeks  got  pinker 
and  pinker  during  this  operation  —  a  sort  of 
rush  of  blood,  I  suppose ;  it  is  all  right  as 
long  as  it  does  not  go  to  the  nose.  She  is 
not  a  bad-looking  girl,  certainly. 

We  got  back  to  the  hotel  without  any 
further  disagreeables. 


f 

,r^S?     *^.i 

^ 

*T  ^ 

Cop.Tright,  1904,  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 
i%I    WILL    STICK    THESE   IN   . 


IF    YOU   WILL   DO    THE    ROLLING    UP  " 


AT  THE  INN  25 

Cecilia  Evesham 

GREY  TOR  INN,  DARTMOOR 

IF  a  policeman's  "  lot  is  not  a  happy  one," 
neither  is  a  companion's  :  I  lay  this  down  as 
an  axiom.  I  have  lived  now  for  two  years 
with  Mrs.  MacGill,  and  know  her  every 
frailty  of  character  only  too  well.  She  has 
not  a  bad  temper  ;  but  oh  !  she  is  a  terrible, 
terrible  bore  !  Not  content  with  being  stupid 
herself,  she  desires  to  make  me  stupid  along 
with  her,  and  has  well-nigh  succeeded,  for 
life  with  her  in  furnished  apartments  at  Tun- 
bridge  Wells  would  dull  a  more  brilliant 
woman  than  I  have  ever  been. 

Mrs.  MacGill  has  lately  had  the  influenza  ; 
it  came  almost  as  a  providential  sending,  for 
it  meant  change  of  air.  We  were  ordered  to 

o 

Dartmoor,  and  to  Dartmoor  we  have  come. 
Now  I  have  become  interested  in  three  new 
people ;  and  that,  after  the  life  I  have  lived 


26  THE  AFFAIR 

of  late  in  Mrs.  MacGill's  sick  room,  is  like  a 
draught  of  nectar  to  my  tired  fancy.  We  met 
these  three  persons  for  the  first  time  in  the 
train,  and  at  the  hotel  at  Exeter  where  we 
stopped  for  the  night ;  or  rather,  I  should 
say  that  we  met  two  of  them  and  sighted 
the  third.  The  two  were  a  mother  and 
daughter,  Mrs.  Pomeroy  and  Virginia  Pom- 
eroy  by  name,  and  Americans  by  nation; 
the  third  person  was  a  young  man,  Sir  Archi 
bald  Maxwell  Mackenzie,  of  Kindarroch,N.B. 
The  Americans  were  extremely  friendly,  after 
the  manner  of  their  nation  ;  the  young  man 
extremely  unfriendly,  after  the  manner  of 
his.  We  found  that  the  Pomeroys  were 
coming  on  to  this  inn,  but  the  Scotchman 
whizzed  off  in  his  motor  car,  giving  us  no 
hint  of  where  he  intended  to  go.  I  thought 
we  had  seen  the  last  of  him,  but  it  was  to  be 
otherwise. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  at  the  Grey 
Tor  Inn  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  assumed  a  Shetland 
shawl,  closed  the  window  of  the  sitting-room, 


AT  THE  INN  27 

and  sat  down  to  do  a  bit  of  knitting.  I  sat 
by  the  window  answering  her  little  vapid 
remarks  and  looking  out.  As  I  sat  thus,  I 
heard  a  puffing  noise  and  saw  a  scarlet  motor 
car  steam  up  to  the  door  of  the  inn.  It  was, 
of  course,  Sir  Archibald. 

"  What  is  that  noise,  Cecilia  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  MacGill. 

"  It 's  a  motor  car/'  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  how  curious  !  I  never  can  under 
stand  how  they  are  worked,"  said  she. 

I  was  beginning  to  try  to  explain  some  of 
the  mysteries  of  motoring  when  the  door  of 
the  sitting-room  opened,  and  Miss  Virginia 
Pomeroy  came  in.  Her  appearance  was  a 
delight  to  the  eyes ;  tall  and  full  grown,  yet 
graceful,  and  dressed  to  perfection.  She  had 
none  of  that  meek  look  that  even  the  pret 
tiest  English  girls  are  getting  nowadays,  as 
if  they  would  say,  "  I  'm  pretty,  but  I  know 
I  ?m  a  drug  in  the  market,  though  I  can't  help 
it ! "  No,  no,  Virginia  Pomeroy  came  into  the 
room  with  an  air  of  possession,  mastery,  con- 


28  THE  AFFAIR 

quest,  that  no  English  girl  can  assume.  She 
walked  straight  up  to  the  window  and  threw 
it  open.  "  How  perfectly  lovely !  "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  Why,  there  's  a  motor ;  I  must 
have  a  ride  in  it  before  very  long."  She 
turned  pleasantly  to  me  as  she  spoke,  and 
asked  me  if  I  did  n't  adore  motoring. 

"  I  've  never  tried,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  the  sooner  you  begin  the  better," 
she  said.  "  Never  miss  a  joy  in  a  world  of 
trouble  ;  that 's  my  theory." 

I  smiled,  but  if  she  had  known  it,  I  more 
nearly  cried  at  her  words  ;  she  did  n't  know 
how  many  joys  /  had  missed  in  life ! 

"  I  '11  go  right  downstairs  and  make  love 
to  the  chauffeur,"  she  went  on,  and  at  this 
Mrs.  MacGill  coughed,  moved  the  fire-irons, 
and  told  me  to  close  the  window.  Miss  Pom- 
eroy  turned  to  her  with  a  laugh. 

"  Why  !  "  she  said,  "  are  you  two  going 
to  sit  in  this  hotel  parlour  all  the  morning  ? 
You  won't  have  much  of  a  time  if  you  do ! " 

"  I  have  had  the  influenza,  like  Mrs.  Pome- 


AT  THE  INN  29 

roy,"  announced  Mrs.  MacGill  solemnly,  "but 
if  Miss  Eveshain  wishes  some  fresh  air  she 
can  go  out  at  any  time.  I  'm  sure  I  never 
object  to  anything  that  you  choose  to  do, 
Cecilia,  do  I?" 

I  hastened  to  assure  her  that  she  did  not, 
while  the  American  girl  stood  looking  from 
one  of  us  to  the  other  with  her  bright,  clever 
eyes. 

"  Suppose  you  come  down  to  the  hall  door 
with  me  then,  Miss  Evesharn,"  Miss  Pomeroy 
suo-crested,  "  and  we  '11  taste  the  air." 

OO  ' 

"  Shall  I,  Mrs.  MacGill?"  I  asked,  for  a 
companion  must  always  ask  leave  even  to 
breathe.  Mrs.  MacGill  answered  petulantly 
that  of  course  I  might  do  as  I  liked. 

The  motor  stood  alone  and  unattended  by 
the  front  door,  both  owner  and  chauffeur 
havino-  deserted  it.  It  rested  there  like  a  red- 

o 

hot  panting  monster  fatigued  by  climbing 

the  long  hill  that  leads  up  to  Grey  Tor  Inn. 

"  Is  n't  it  out  of  breath  ?  "  cried  Virginia. 

"  I  want  to  pat  it  and  give  it  a  drink  of 


30  THE  AFFAIR 

water."  The  next  minute  she  skipped  into 
the  car  and  laid  her  white  hand  on  the  steer 
ing-wheel. 

"  Oh,  don't !  Do  take  care  !  "  I  cried. 
**  The  thing  may  run  away  with  you,  or 
burst,  or  something,  and  the  owner  may 
come  out  at  any  moment  —  it  belongs  to 
that  young  man  who  was  at  Exeter,  Sir 
Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie." 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much  if  he  did  come 
out,"  said  Virginia,  looking  over  her  shoulder 
at  me  with  the  most  bewitching  ogle  I  ever 
saw,  and  I  soon  saw  that  she  intended  to 
conquer  Sir  Archibald  as  she  had  conquered 
many  another  man?  and  meant  to  drive  all 
over  Dartmoor  in  his  motor.  Well,  youth 
and  high  spirits  are  two  good  things.  Let 
her  do  what  she  likes  with  the  young  man, 
so  long  as  she  enjoys  herself ;  they  will  both 
be  old  soon  enough  ! 


AT  THE  INN  31 

II 

Virginia  Pomeroy 

DARTMOOR,  DEVONSHIRE 

GREY  TOR  INX 


T 


HE  plot  thickens ;  well,  goodness  knows 
it  was  thin  enough  before,  and  it  is  now  only 
of  the  innocent  consistency  of  cream  sauce. 
For  myself  I  like  a  plot  that  will  stand  quite 
stiff  and  firm ;  still  the  Exeter  motor  is  here 
and  the  Exeter  motor-man  is  here.  I  don't 
mean  the  chauffeur,  but  the  owner.  He  does 
n't  intend  staying  more  than  a  day  or  two, 
but  he  may  like  it  better  as  time  goes  on, 
—  they  often  do,  even  these  British  icebergs. 
It  is,  however,  a  poor  climate  for  thawing  pur 
poses.  There  are  only  six  people  in  the  inn 
all  told,  and  two,  we  hear,  are  leaving  to-night. 
I  was  glad  to  see  the  English  girl  standing 

o  o  o  o 

at  the  window  when  we  arrived.    She  bright 
ened,  as  much  as  to  say  that  we  two  might 


32  THE  AFFAIR 

make  life  more  cheerful  by  putting  our 
heads  together.  Mrs.  MacGill  is  a  good 
companion  for  mamma,  but  could  not  other 
wise  be  endured  for  a  moment.  I  find  it  very 
difficult  to  account  for  her  on  any  ordinary 
basis;  I  mean  of  climate  or  nationality  or 
the  like.  The  only  way  I  can  explain  her  to 
my  satisfaction  is,  that  some  sixty  years  ago 
her  father,  a  very  dull  gentleman,  met  her 
mother,  a  lady  of  feeble  mind  and  waspish 
disposition ;  met  her,  loved  her,  married  her, 
—  and  Mrs.  MacGill  is  the  result  of  the 
union. 

Her  conversation  at  table  is  aimless  beyond 
description,  often  causing  Miss  Evesham  to 
blush,  and  Sir  Archibald  to  raise  his  eye 
brows.  It  does  n't  take  much  to  produce  this 
effect  on  Sir  Archibald's  part ;  when  he  was 
born  they  must  have  been  slightly  lifted. 

Mrs.  MacGill  asked  me,  at  dinner,  my 
Christian  name,  not  having  heard  it,  as 
mamma  often  calls  me  "  Jinny."  Here  is  the 
colloquy. 


AT  THE  INN  83 

Jinny :  My  name  is  Virginia ;  it  is  one 
of  the  Southern  States,  you  know. 

Mrs.  Mac  :  Oh,  I  see  !  how  curious  !  Is 
that  a  common  habit  of  naming  children  in 
America  ? 

Jinny :  Oh,  yes ;  you  see  it  is  such  an 
enormous  country?  and  there  are  such  a  num 
ber  of  children  to  be  named  that  we  simply 
had  to  extend  the  supply  of  names  in  some 
way.  My  mother's  middle  name,  which  is 
my  own  also,  is  something  really  quaint,  — 
"  Secessia." 

Mrs.  Mac :  Secessia !  What  an  extraor 
dinary  name  !  Has  it  any  significance  ? 

Jinny :  Yes,  indeedy !  My  mother  was 
born  in  the  early  days  of  the  Civil  War,  at  the 
time  of  the  secession,  and  her  father,  an  ar 
dent  Southerner,  named  her  Gloria  Secessia. 

Mrs.  Mac :  Let  me  see,  I  don't  seem  to 
remember  any  secession  ;  were  we  mixed  up 
in  what  you  cah1  your  Civil  War? 

(Here  Sir  Archibald  caught  my  eye  and 
smiled,  almost  a  human  smile  it  was.) 


34  THE  AFFAIR 

Jinny :  No,  but  you  had  a  good  deal  to 
do  with  the  War  of  Independence.  That 
was  nearly  a  century  before.  (Sir  Archi 
bald  was  honestly  amused  here.  He  must 
know  American  history. ) 

Mrs.  Mac :  I  thought  your  last  war  was 
called  the  War  of  Independence,  because  it 
made  the  negroes  independent,  but  I  must 
have  got  the  two  confused ;  and  you  've  just 
had  another  small  one,  have  n't  you,  though 
now  I  remember  that  we  were  engaged  in 
only  one  of  them,  and  that  was  before  my 
time.  It  seems  strange  we  should  have  gone 
across  the  ocean  to  help  a  younger  country 
to  fight  its  battles,  but  after  all,  blood  is 
thicker  than  water.  I  had  a  nephew  who 
went  to  America  —  Brazil  I  think  was  the 
name  of  the  town  —  a  barrister,  Mr.  George 
Forsyth ;  you  may  have  met  him  ? 

Jinny  :  I  think  not ;  I  seldom  go  so  far 
from  home. 

Mrs.  Mac  :  But  you  live  in  South  Amer 
ica,  do  you  not? 


AT  THE  INN  35 

Jinny :  I  live  in  the  South,  but  that  is 
merely  to  say  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
United  States. 

Mrs.  Mac :  How  confusing !  I  fear  I 
can't  make  it  out  without  the  globes ;  I  was 
always  very  good  at  the  globes  when  I  was 
a  child.  Cecilia,  suppose  after  dinner  you 
see  if  there  is  a  globe  in  the  inn. 

Poor  Miss  Evesham  !  She  is  so  pale,  so 
likable,  so  downtrodden,  and  she  has  been 
so  pretty  !  Think  of  what  is  involved  when 
one  uses  the  past  tense  with  a  woman  of 
thirty.  She  has  fine  hair  and  eyes  and  a 
sweet  manner.  As  to  the  rest,  she  is  about 
my  height,  and  she  is  not  dressed ;  she  is 
simply  clothed.  Height  is  her  only  visible 
dimension,  the  village  mantua-maker  having 
shrouded  the  others  in  hopeless  ambiguity. 
She  has  confessed  to  me  that  she  dresses  on 
fifteen  pounds  a  year  !  If  she  had  told  me 
that  her  father  was  dead,  her  mother  a  klep 
tomaniac,  and  she  the  sole  support  of  a  large 
family,  I  should  have  pitied  her,  but  a  dress 


36  THE  AFFAIR 

allowance  of  fifteen  pounds  a  year  calls  for 
more  than  pity ;  it  belongs  to  the  realm  of 
tragedy.  She  looks  at  thirty  as  if  she  never 
had  had,  nor  ever  expected  to  have,  a  good 
time.  How  I  should  like  to  brighten  her  up 
a  bit  and  get  her  into  my  room  to  try  on 
Paris  hats ! 

She  and  I,  aided  by  Sir  Archibald,  have 
been  to  Stoke  Babbage  to  try  to  secure  a 
pony,  sound,  kind,  and  fleet,  that  will  drag 
Mrs.  MacGill  up  and  down  the  hills.  She 
refused  the  steeds  proffered  by  the  Grey  Tor 
stables,  and  sent  Miss  Evesham  to  procure 
something  so  hopelessly  ideal  in  the  shape 
of  horseflesh  that  I  confess  we  had  no  ex 
pectation  of  ever  finding  it. 

The  groom  at  the  Unicorn  produced  a 
nice  pony  chaise,  well  padded  and  well 
braked,  with  small  low  wheels,  and  a  pony 
originally  black,  but  worn  gray  by  age,  as 
well  as  by  battling  with  the  elements  in  this 
region  of  bare  hills  and  bleak  winds.  Miss 
Evesham  liked  its  looks  particularly.  I  too 


AT  THE  INN  87 

was  pleased  by  its  sturdy  build  and  remarked 
that  its  somewhat  wild  eye  might  be  only  a 
sign  of  ambition.  Sir  Archibald  took  an  en 
tirely  humourous  view  of  the  animal,  and 
indeed,  as  compared  with  a  motor,  the  little 
creature  seemed  somewhat  inadequate.  We 
agreed  that  for  Mrs.  MacGill  (and  here  we 
exchanged  wicked  glances)  it  would  do  ad 
mirably,  and  we  all  became  better  acquainted 
in  discussing  its  points. 

Miss  Evesham  and  I  offered  to  drive  the 
pony  back  to  Grey  Tor,  and  Sir  Archibald 
saw  us  depart  with  something  that  approached 
hilarity.  He  is  awfully  nice  when  he  unbends 
in  this  way,  and  quite  makes  one  wish  to  see 
him  do  it  oftener.  From  all  our  previous  con 
versations  I  have  come  away  with  the  sort  of 
feeling  you  have  when  you  visit  the  grave 
of  your  grandmother  on  a  Sunday  afternoon. 

I  don't  know  the  number  of  miles  between 
Stoke  Babbage  and  Grey  Tor.  The  distance 
covered  cuts  no  actual  figure  in  describing 
the  time  required  for  a  drive  with  the  new 


38  THE  AFFAIR 

pony,  whom  I  have  christened  Greytoria. 
The  word  "  drive  "  is  not  altogether  descrip 
tive,  since  we  walked  most  of  the  way  home. 
I  hardly  think  this  method  of  progression 
would  have  occurred  to  us,  but  it  did  occur 
to  Greytoria,  and  she  communicated  the  idea 
by  stopping  short  at  the  slightest  elevation 
and  turning  her  head  in  a  manner  which 
could  only  mean,  "  Suppose  you  get  out  if 
you  don't  mind  !  " 

Having  walked  up  all  the  hills  we  imagined 
we  could  perhaps  drive  down.  Not  at  all. 
Greytoria  dislikes  holding  back  more,  if  any 
thing,  than  climbing  up.  We  kept  our  seats 
at  first,  applied  the  brake,  and  attempted  a 
very  gentle  trot.  "  Don't  let  us  spoil  the 
pony,"  I  said.  "  We  must  begin  as  we  mean 
to  go  on."  Miss  Evesham  agreed,  but  in  a 
moment  or  two  each  issued  from  her  side  of 
the  chaise  and  that  without  argument.  Grey- 
toria's  supports  are  both  stiff  and  weak  — 
groggy  is  Sir  Archibald's  word.  She  takes 
trembling  little  steps  with  her  forelegs  while 


AT  THE  INN  39 

the  hind  ones  slide  automatically  down  any 
declivity.  The  hills  between  Stoke  Babbage 
and  Grey  Tor  being  particularly  long  and 
steep,  we  found  that  I  was  obliged  to  lead 
Greytoria  by  the  bridle  while  Miss  Evesham 
held  the  chaise  by  the  back  of  the  seat  and 
attempted  to  keep  it  from  falling  on  the 
pony's  legs ;  the  thing,  we  finally  discovered, 
that  was  the  ruling  terror  of  her  life. 

Naturally  we  were  late  at  luncheon,  but 
we  did  not  describe  our  drive  in  detail.  The 
groom  at  the  stables  says  that  the  pony  can 
drag  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  quite  safely,  if  Miss  Eve- 
sham  is  firm  in  her  management.  Of  course 
she  will  have  to  walk  up  and  down  all  the 
hills,  but  she  does  n't  mind  that,  and  Mrs. 
MacGill  will  love  it.  It  is  bliss  to  her  to  lie 
in  slippered  ease,  so  to  speak,  and  see  all  the 
people  in  her  vicinity  working  like  galley 
slaves.  We  shall  be  delightfully  situated  now, 
with  Greytoria,  Sir  Archibald's  motor,  and 
an  occasional  trap  from  the  stables,  if  we 
need  other  vehicles. 


40  THE  AFFAIR 

Sir  Archibald  as  yet  does  not  look  upon 
a  motor  as  a  philanthropic  institution.  There 
are  moments  when  he  seems  simply  to  regard 
it  as  a  means  of  selfish  pleasure,  but  that 
must  be  changed. 

Item.  Miss  Evesham  looked  only  twenty- 
nine  at  luncheon. 


AT  THE  INN  41 


Mrs.  MacGill 

LAST  night  I  slept  so  badly  that  I  could  not 
go  down  to  the  dining-room  this  morning. 
Cecilia,  in  spite  of  her  neuralgia  yesterday, 
seemed  well  and  bright.  I  asked  her  to  send 
me  up  some  breakfast,  but  could  scarcely  eat 
it  when  it  came  ;  the  tea  was  cold,  the  bread 
damp  and  tough,  and  the  egg  fresh  enough, 
but  curious.  Cecilia  never  came  near  me  after 
breakfast.  When  I  came  down  about  eleven 
o'clock,  very  cold,  I  found  no  one  in  the  sit 
ting-rooms.  Hearing  voices,  I  went  to  the 
door  and  found  Cecilia  talking  to  the  Ameri 
can  girl,  who  had  a  great  deal  of  colour  for 
that  hour  in  the  morning.  Sir  Archibald  came 
up,  grinding  round  the  drive  in  his  motor.  It 
is  quite  unnecessary  to  have  brought  a  motor 
here  at  all,  for  I  observe  that  the  hillsides  are 
covered  with  ponies.  There  must  have  been 
a  herd  of  twenty-five  of  them  outside  my 


42  THE  AFFAIR 

window  this  morning,  so  a  motor  is  quite 
out  of  place.  The  doctor  here  recommends 
me  to  try  driving  exercise,  but  some  of  the 
animals  are  so  very  small  that  I  scarcely 
think  they  could  pull  me  up  these  hills.  Ce 
cilia  says  the  smaller  ones  are  foals.  Many 
of  them  kick,  I  see,  so  we  must  select  with 
care.  I  wish  we  could  procure  a  donkey. 
The  feeling  of  confidence  I  have  when  in  a 
donkey-chair  more  than  makes  up  for  the 
slowness  of  motion. 

Like  me,  Mrs.  Pomeroy  was  kept  awake, 
by  the  wind  —  it  never  stops  here.  When  I 
remarked  on  this,  Cecilia  said  in  her  patron 
ising  way,  "  Don't  you  remember  Borrow's 
famous  line,  — 

"  There 's  always  the  wind  on  the  heath  "  ? 

"  I  see  nothing  clever  in  that,"  I  said ; 
"there  is  always  wind  on  the  heath  here, 
and  I  particularly  dislike  it." 

When  we  came  into  the  drawing-room 
Miss  Pomeroy  was  saying,  "  I  Jve  discovered 


AT  THE  INN  43 

a  piano  !  "  The  piano,  to  my  mind,  was  the 
largest  obiect  in  the  room,  so  she  must  be 

O  J 

short-sighted,  if  she  had  not  seen  it  before ; 
pride  probably  prevents  her  wearing  glasses. 
She  sat  there  singing  for  quite  a  long  time. 
She  would  n't  finish  her  songs,  but  just  sang 
scraps  of  a  number  of  things.  Sir  Archibald 
came  into  the  room  and  stood  about  for 
some  time.  I  asked  him  several  questions 
about  his  father's  sister,  whom  I  used  to 
know.  He  replied  so  absently  that  I  could 
make  nothing  of  it.  Miss  Pomeroy  has  a 
clear  voice.  She  sang  what  I  suppose  were 
translations  of  negro  songs — very  noisy. 
When  she  afterwards  tried  one  of  Moore's 
exquisite  melodies,  I  confess  to  admiring  it. 
It  was  a  great  favourite  with  Mr.  MacGill, 
who  used  to  sing  it  with  much  feeling :  — 

Around  the  dear  ruin,  each  wish  of  my  heart. 

What  a  touching  expression  that  is  for  a 
middle-aged  woman  —  "  the  dear  ruin  "  ! 
Grey   Tor  is  certainly  very   bleak.    The 


44  THE  AFFAIR 

guide-books  speak  of  "  huge  monoliths  "  (I 
suppose  they  mean  the  rocks  on  the  moor), 
"  seeming  to  have  been  reared  by  some  awful 
cataclysm  of  nature  in  primordial  times."  I 
hope  there  will  be  no  cataclysms  during  our 
stay  on  the  moor ;  the  accounts  of  tempests 
of  which  I  read  in  some  of  the  novels  quite 
frighten  me,  yet  I  can  scarcely  think  there 
is  much  danger  about  this  tor  —  "a  giant, 
the  biggest  tor  of  all,"  the  guide-books 
say.  It  is  so  fully  peopled  by  tourists  with 
luncheon  baskets  that  one  loses  the  feeling 
of  desolation.  Miss  Pomeroy  has  been  up  to 
the  top  already  —  twice,  once  alone.  Cecilia 
means  to  go  too,  though  nothing  can  be 
worse  for  neuralgia  than  cold  wind.  She  will 
always  say  that  nothing  hurts  her  like  sitting 
in  hot  rooms.  I  should  be  very  glad  to 
have  a  hot  room  to  sit  in  !  She  has  got  a 
nice,  quiet-looking  animal  at  last,  and  a  low 
pony  chaise,  so  I  hope  to  have  some  drives. 
Neuralgia  is  one  of  those  things  one  can 
not  calculate  on.  Cecilia  will  be  ill  all  day, 


AT  THE  INN  45 

and  then  suddenly  able  to  come  down  to 
dinner.  I  have  suffered  a  good  deal  from 
tic  douloureux  myself,  but  was  never  able  to 
eat  during  the  paroxsyms,  as  Cecilia  seems 
to  be.  After  having  five  teeth  pulled,  I  once 
lived  exclusively  on  soup  for  three  days. 

Miss  Pomeroy,  I  suppose,  is  what  most 
people  would  call  a  pretty  girl.  Hot  bread 
and  dyspepsia  will  soon  do  for  her,  though, 
as  for  all  American  women.  The  bread  here 
is  tough  and  very  damp.  She  is  dark,  very 
dark  in  hair  and  eyes,  in  spite  of  her  white 
skin,  and  she  describes  herself  as  a  "  South 
erner."  I  should  be  inclined  to  suspect  a 
strain  of  negro  or  Indian  blood.  I  heard  her 
discussing  what  she  called  "  the  colour  prob 
lem  "  with  Cecilia,  and  she  seemed  to  speak 
with  a  good  deal  of  bitterness.  Yet  Mrs. 
Pomeroy  is  evidently  a  lady.  The  girl  dresses 
well  in  the  American  style,  which  I  never 
attempt.  She  has,  I  suppose,  what  would  be 
called  a  fine  figure,  though  the  waist  seems 
of  no  importance  just  now.  Her  feet,  in 


46  THE  AFFAIR 

shoes,  look  small  enough,  though  the  heels 
she  wears  astonish  me  ;  it  is  years  since  I 
have  worn  anything  but  a  simple  cloth  boot, 
neat  but  roomy.  I  have  seen  her  glance  at 
my  feet  several  times,  as  if  she  observed 
something  odd  about  them. 


AT  THE  INN  47 

Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie. 

GREY  TOR  INN 

Is  N'T  it  a  most  extraordinary  thing  that 
when  people  are  in  a  comfortable  house, 
with  a  good  rcof  over  their  heads,  solid 
meals  served  at  regular  intervals  three  or 
four  times  a  day,  and  every  possible  com 
fort,  they  instantly  want  to  go  outside  and 
make  themselves  not  only  thoroughly  un 
comfortable,  but  generally  ill  besides,  by 
having  a  picnic  in  the  open  ?  Ever  since  I 
had  that  walk  with  Miss  Pomeroy,  she  has 
done  nothing  but  talk  about  a  picnic  at  some 
beastly  little  village  in  the  vicinity  where 
there  is  a  church  that  the  guide-books  tell 

o 

the  usual  lies  about.  As  to  churches  —  a 
church  to  my  mind  is  a  place  to  go  to  on 
Sundays  with  the  rest  of  the  congregation. 
It  is  plainly  not  constructed  for  week  days, 
when  it  is  empty,  cold,  and  damp,  and  you 


48  THE  AFFAIR 

have  to  take  your  hat  off  in  the  draughts  all 
the  same,  and  talk  in  whispers.  As  to  pic 
nics  —  there  's  a  kind  of  folly  about  them 
that  it  is  altogether  beyond  me  to  under 
stand.  Why  such  things  ever  take  place 
outside  the  grounds  of  a  lunatic  asylum, 
goodness  only  knows ;  they  ought  to  be  for 
bidden  by  law,  and  the  people  who  organize 
them  shut  up  as  dangerous.  However,  I  see 
I  am  in  for  this  one.  Miss  Pomeroy  wants 
the  motor,  but  she  won't  get  the  motor  with 
out  me.  Heaven  be  praised,  the  weather  has 
broken  up  in  the  mean  time,  which  is  the 
reason  I  am  staying  on  here.  Motoring  on 
Dartmoor  in  a  tearing  nor'easter  is  no  catch. 
My  quarters  are  comfortable,  and  but  for 
the  women  I  should  be  doing  very  well. 

The  worst  of  it  is,  there  is  a  whole  batch 
of  them  now.  A  Mrs.  MacGill  and  her  com 
panion  are  here,  and  these  two  and  the 
Americans  seem  to  have  met  before.  The 
two  old  women  are  as  thick  as  thieves,  and 
the  fair  Virginia  (she  told  me  her  name, 


AT  THE  INN  49 

though  she  might  have  seen,  I  am  sure,  that 
I  was  simply  dying  not  to  know  it)  seems  to 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  the  companion, 
though  the  latter  does  n't  appear  to  me  much 
in  the  line  of  such  a  lively  young  person. 
There 's  no  rule,  of  course,  for  women's 
likes  and  dislikes,  any  more  than  for  any* 
thing  else  that  has  to  do  with  them.  The 
unlucky  part  of  it  is  that  Mrs.  MacGill 
seemed  to  spot  me  the  moment  she  heard 
my  name.  She  says  my  father  was  her  bro 
ther-in-law's  first  cousin,  and  her  brother-in- 
law  died  at  Agra  in  a  fit ;  though  what  that 
has  to  do  with  it,  goodness  knows.  It  means 
I  have  got  to  be  civil  and  to  get  mixed  up 
with  the  rest  of  the  party.  A  man  can  never 
be  as  rude  as  he  feels,  which  is  one  of  the 
drawbacks  of  civilization.  So  I  have  to  sit 
at  their  table  now,  and  talk  the  whole  time 
—  can't  even  have  a  meal  in  peace.  The  old 
woman  MacGill  is  on  one  side,  the  Amer 
ican  girl  on  the  other.  The  companion  sits 
opposite.  She  keeps  quiet,  which  is  one 


50  THE  AFFAIR 

mercy ;  generally  has  neuralgia,  —  a  pale, 
rather  ladylike  young  woman  with  a  seen- 
better-days-and-once-was-decidedly-pretty  air 
about  her.  The  American  girl's  clothes  take 
the  cake,  of  course  —  a  new  frock  every 
night  and  such  ribbons  and  laces  —  my 
stars  !  I  'd  rather  not  be  the  man  who  has 
to  pay  for  them.  I  'm  surprised  at  her  talk 
ing  so  much  to  the  humble  companion  — 
thought  this  sort  of  girl  never  found  it 
worth  while  to  be  civil  to  her  own  sex ;  but 
I  conclude  this  is  not  invariably  the  case. 

"  I  'm  afraid  your  neuralgia  is  very  bad 
up  here/'  I  heard  her  say  to  Miss  Evesham 
(that 's  the  companion's  name)  after  dinner 
last  night.  "  You  come  right  along  to  my 
room,  and  I  '11  rub  menthol  on  your  poor 
temples."  And  they  went  off  together  and 
disappeared  for  the  night. 

The  weather  has  cleared  up  to-day,  though 
it  is  still  too  cold  and  windy,  thank  the  Lord, 
for  the  picnic  to  Widdington-in-the-Wolds, 
I  took  the  motor  to  a  little  town  about  four 


AT  THE  INN  51 

miles  off,  and  overtook  the  fair  Virginia 
and  Miss  Evesharn,  footing  it  there  on  some 
errand  of  Mrs.  MacGill's.  I  slowed  down  as 
I  got  near,  but  I  soon  saw  Miss  Pomeroy 
intended  me  to  stop ;  there 's  no  uncertainty 
about  any  of  her  desires. 

"Now,  Sir  Archibald,"  said  she  with  a 
straight  look  which  made  me  understand 
that  obedience  was  my  role,  "  I  know  what 
you  're  going  to  do  this  very  minute.  Miss 
Evesham  's  neuralgia  is  so  bad  that  she  can 
scarcely  see,  and  you  've  got  to  take  her  right 
along  in  your  motor  to  the  Unicorn  Inn,  and 
help  choose  a  pony  for  Mrs.  MacGill.  Just 
a  man's  job  —  you  'd  love  doing  it,  I  should 
think." 

I  wanted  to  hum  and  haw  a  bit,  but 
she  did  n't  give  me  the  chance.  She  pulled 
open  the  door  behind.  "  Get  in  quick  !  " 
she  said  to  the  companion.  "  Quick,  quick  ! 
a  motor  puff-puffing  this  way  always  makes 
me  think  it 's  in  a  desperate  hurry  and  won't 
wait!" 


52  THE  AFFAIR 

I,  however,  was  not  in  such  a  hurry  this 
time,  though  there  's  nothing  I  hate  more,  as 
a  rule,  than  wasting  motor  power  standing 
still. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Miss  Pome- 
roy?"  I  shouted  above  the  throbbing  and 
shaking  of  the  machine. 

o 

"  Going  right  home  to  my  mother,"  she 
replied.  "  It 's  about  time,  too." 

"  No,  you  don't,"  thought  I,  "  and  leave 
me  saddled  with  the  companion."  For  if 
you  must  have  female  society,  you  may  as 
well  have  it  good-looking  when  you  are 
about  it. 

"  Won't  you  do  me  the  pleasure  of  tak 
ing  a  ride  too  ?  "  I  asked  politely.  I  knew 
perfectly  well  she  was  dying  for  a  ride  in 
the  motor,  and  I  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
dozens  of  hints.  But  now  that  she  wanted 
to  do  the  other  woman  a  good  turn  and 
walk  home  herself,  nothing  would  content 
me  but  to  have  her  in  the  motor.  I  know 
how  inconvenient  it  is  to  be  good-natured 


AT  THE  INN  53 

and  unselfish.    I  am  obliged  to  be  both  so 
often,  against  rnv  natural  inclinations. 

'          O  v 

Miss  Virginia's  eyes  gave  a  sparkle,,  but 
she  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  The  front  seat 's  much  the  jolliest,"  I 
remarked,  "  and  it 's  very  good  going  —  no 
end  of  a  surface."  She  gave  a  jump  and 
was  up  beside  me  in  half  a  second,  and  we 
were  off. 

By  Jove  —  that  was  a  good  bit  of  going ! 
The  road  was  clear,  the  surface  like  velvet. 
I  took  every  bit  out  of  the  motor  that  was 
in  it,  and  we  went  the  pace  and  no  mistake. 
Miss  Virginia  was  as  pleased  as  Punch,  I 
could  see.  She  had  to  hold  on  her  hat  with 
both  hands,  and  her  cheeks  and  lips  were  as 
red  as  roses  ;  the  ribbons  flew  out  from  her 
neck,  and  flapped  across  my  face,  which  was 
a  nuisance,  of  course  ;  they  had  the  faint 
scent  of  some  flower  or  other ;  I  hate  smells 
as  a  rule,  but  this  was  not  strong  enough  to 
be  bad.  We  got  down  at  the  Unicorn,  and 
though  I  said  I  knew  nothing  whatever  about 


§4  THE  AFFAIR 

ponies,  I  had  to  look  through  the  stables  with 
the  hostler,  and  choose  a  beast  and  a  trap  for 
Mrs.  MacGill.  There  was  only  one  of  each, 
so  the  choice  was  not  difficult.  The  two 
girls  drove  home  in  the  turnout.  I  thought 
it  was  time  to  disappear. 


AT  THE  INN  55 


Cecilia  Evesham 

GREY  TOR  INN 

Thursday 

I  HAVE  had  a  miserable  thirty-six  hours. 
Mrs.  MacGill  has  been  ill  again  —  or  has  be 
lieved  that  she  is  ill  again.  I  do  not  think 
there  is  much  wrong  with  her,  but  the  over- 
sympathetic  Mrs.  Pomeroy  went  on  describ 
ing  symptoms  to  her  till  she  became  quite 
nervous  and  went  to  bed,  demanding  that  a 
doctor  be  sent  for.  This  was  no  easy  matter, 
but  at  last  a  callow  medical  fledgling  was 
dug  out  somewhere,  who  was  ready  to  agree 
with  all  I  said  to  him. 

"  Suggest  fresh  air  and  exercise  to  Mrs. 
MacGill,"  I  said,  "for  she  considers  the 
one  poisonous,  the  other  almost  a  crime, 
and  knitting  the  only  legitimate  form  of 
amusement.' 


56  THE  AFFAIR 

So  he  recommended  air  and  exercise  — 
driving  exercise  by  preference. 

"  I  used  to  like  the  donkey-chairs  at  Tun- 
bridge  Wells/'  Mrs.  MacGill  responded,  "but 
horses  go  so  rapidly." 

However,  after  the  doctor  had  gone  she 
began  to  consider  his  advice. 

"  Shall  I  go  to  the  stables  and  arrange 
for  you  to  have  a  drive  this  afternoon  ?  " 
I  asked. 

She  demurred,  for  she  never  can  make  up 
her  mind  about  anything. 

"  I  can't  decide  just  now,"  she  hesitated. 
"  I  '11  think  it  over." 

I  took  up  the  guide-book,  and  was  allowed 
to  read  its  thrilling  pages  for  some  ten 
minutes.  Then  Mrs.  MacGill  called  me  again. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  go  and  select  a  very  quiet 
horse  we  might  have  a  drive  in  the  after 
noon,"  she  said. 

I  went  and  saw  the  horse,  and  arranged 
for  the  drive,  then  returned  to  tell  Mrs. 
MacGill  of  the  arrangement.  She  was  not 


AT  THE  INN  57 

pleased.  Had  I  said  that  perhaps  we  would 
drive  out  at  three  o'clock,  it  would  have  been 
more  to  her  mind. 

"  Go  back  and  tell  the  man  that  perhaps 
we  '11  go/'  she  said. 

"  But  perhaps  some  one  else  will  take  out 
the  horse,  in  that  case/'  I  suggested,  cross 
and  weary  with  her  fidgeting.  All  the  rest 
of  the  forenoon  was  one  long  vacillation  : 
she  would  go,  or  she  would  not  go ;  it  would 
rain,  or  it  would  not  rain ;  she  would  coun 
termand  the  carriage  or  she  would  order  it. 
But  by  three  o'clock  the  sun  was  shining,  so 
I  got  her  bonneted  and  cloaked  and  led  her 
down  to  the  hall.  The  motor  had  come  round 
at  the  same  moment  with  our  carriage.  Its 
owner  was  looking  it  over  before  he  made  a 
start,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to  see  that 
Miss  Virginia  Pomeroy  was  also  at  the  door, 
and  that  she  showed  great  interest  in  the 
tires  of  the  motor.  Had  I  been  that  young 
man  I  must  have  asked  her  to  drive  with  me 
there  and  then,  she  looked  so  delightful ; 


58  THE  AFFAIR 

but  he  is  rather  a  phlegmatic  creature,  surely, 
for  he  did  n't  seem  to  think  of  it.  Just  as 
we  were  preparing  to  step  into  the  carriage, 
the  motor  gave  out  a  great  puff  of  steam, 
and  the  horse  in  our  vehicle  sprang  up  in 
the  shafts  and  took  a  shy  to  one  side.  It 
was  easily  quieted  down,  but  of  course  the 
incident  was  more  than  enough  for  Mrs. 
MacGill. 

"  Take  it  away,"  she  said  to  the  driver. 
"  I  won't  endanger  my  life  with  such  an 
animal  —  brown  horses  are  always  wild,  and 
so  are  black  ones." 

It  was  vain  for  me  to  argue  ;  she  just 
turned  away  and  walked  upstairs  again,  I 
following  to  take  off  her  bonnet  and  cloak, 
and  supply  her  again  with  her  knitting.  So 
there  was  an  end  of  the  carriage  exercise, 
it  seemed. 

But  there's  a  curious  boring  pertinacity 
in  the  creature,  for  after  we  had  sat  in  si 
lence  for  about  ten  minutes  she  remarked :  — 

"  Cecilia,  the  doctor  said  I  was  to  have 


AT  THE  INN  59 

carriage  exercise.  Don't  you  think  I  could 
get  a  donkey-chair  ?  " 

"No,"  I  replied  quite  curtly.  " Donkey 
chairs  do  not  grow  on  Dartmoor." 

She  never  saw  that  I  was  provoked,  and 
perhaps  it  was  just  as  well. 

"  No/'  she  said  after  a  pause  for  reflection. 
"  No,  I  dare  say  they  do  not,  but  don't  you 
think  if  you  walked  to  Stoke  Babbage  you 
might  be  able  to  get  one  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  might  be  able  to  get  a  pony  chaise  and 
a  quiet  pony,"  I  answered,  scenting  the  pos 
sibility  of  a  five-mile  walk  that  would  give 
me  an  hour  or  two  of  peace. 

"  "Well,  will  you  go  and  try  if  you  can  get 
one?  "  she  asked. 

"  If  you  don't  mind  being  left  alone  for  a 
few  hours,  I  '11  do  what  I  can,"  I  said.  She 
was  beginning  to  object,  when  Virginia  ap 
peared,  leading  in  her  mother. 

"  Here  's  my  mother  come  to  keep  you 
company,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  she  explained. 
"  She  wishes  to  hear  all  about  your  chill,  from 


60  THE  AFFAIR 

the  first  shiver  right  on  to  the  last  cough." 
She  placed  Mrs.  Pomeroy  in  an  armchair, 
and  fairly  drove  me  out  of  the  room  before 
her,  pushing  me  with  both  hands. 

"  Come  !  Run !  Fly  !  Escape !  "  she  cried. 
"  You  are  as  white  as  butter  with  waiting  on 
that  woman's  fads.  I  won't  let  you  come  in 
again  under  three  hours.  My  mother's  symp 
toms  are  good  to  last  for  two  and  a  half 
hours,  and  then  Mrs.  MacGill  can  fill  up  the 
rest  of  the  time  with  hers." 

Gaiety  like  Virginia's  is  infectious.  I  ran, 
yes,  really  ran  downstairs  along  with  her, 
quite  forgetting  my  headache  and  weari 
ness.  I  almost  turned  traitor  to  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  and  was  ready  to  laugh  at  her  with  this 
girl. 

"  She  wants  a  pony  chaise,  and  I  'm  to 
go  down  to  Stoke  Babbage  to  choose  it,"  I 
said. 

"  Why,  that 's  five  miles  away,  is  n't  it  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  You  3re  not  half  equal  to  a 
walk  like  that." 


AT  THE  INN  61 

"  Anything  —  anything  for  a  respite  from 
Mrs.  MacGill !  "  I  cried. 

"  Well,  if  you  are  fit  for  it,  I  reckon  I 
am,"  Virginia  said,  and  with  that  we  set  off 
together  down  the  road.  .  .  . 


62  THE  AFFAIR 

III 

Virginia  Pomeroy 


T, 


GREY  TOR  INN 


HE  inn  at  the  world's  end.  The  inn  at 
the  world's  end.  These  words  come  into  my 
mind  every  morning  when  I  look  out  of  my 
window  at  the  barren  moor  with  its  clumps 
of  blazing  whin,  the  misty  distance,  and  the 
outline  of  Grey  Tor  against  the  sky.  That 
"giant  among  rocks  rising  in  sombre  and 
sinister  majesty  athwart  the  blue  "  looks  to 
my  eye  like  an  interesting  stone  on  a  nice, 
middle-sized  hill.  If  only  they  would  dwell 
more  upon  the  strange  sense  of  desolation 
and  mystery  it  seems  to  put  into  the  land 
scape,  instead  of  being  awed  by  its  so-called 
size  !  I  am  fascinated  by  it,  but  refuse  to  be 
astounded. 

This  naughty  conception  of  the  colossus 
of  the  moor  is  the  one  link  between  Sir 


AT  THE  INN  63 

Archibald  and  me,  for  he  has  seen  Ben 
Nevis  and  I  the  Yosemite  Crags.  Geologi 
cally  speaking  I  admit  that  these  moor  rocks 
must  be  fascinating  to  the  student,  and  cer 
tainly  we  at  home  are  painfully  destitute  of 
"  clapper-bridges,"  "  hut-circles/'  and  "  mon 
oliths  ;  "  although  I  heard  an  imaginative  fel 
low  countryman  declare  yesterday  to  a  party 
of  English  trippers  that  we  had  so  many  we 
became  tired  to  death  of  the  sight  of  them, 
and  the  government  ordered  hundreds  of 
them  pulled  down. 

Every  inn,  even  one  at  the  world's  end,  is 
a  little  picture  of  life,  and  we  have  under 
our  roof  all  sorts  of  dramas  in  process  of 
unfolding. 

Shall  I  always  be  travelling,  I  wonder, 
picking  up  acquaintances  here  and  there, 
sometimes  friends,  now  and  then  a  lover 
perhaps  !  Imagine  a  hotel  lover,  a  lodging- 
house  suitor,  a  husband,  whom  one  would  re 
member  afterwards  was  rented  with  an  apart 
ment  !  But  if  I  had  found  only  Cecilia  Eve- 


64  THE  AFFAIR 

sham  in  this  bleak  spot  I  could  be  thankful 
for  coming.  She  is  like  a  white  thorn-bush 
in  a  barren  field,  and  she  is  not  plain  either, 
as  they  all  persist  in  thinking  her.  Life,  Mrs. 
MacGill,  and  the  village  dressmaker  have  for 
the  moment  placed  her  under  a  total  eclipse, 
but  she  will  shine  yet,  this  poor  little  sunny 
beam,  all  put  out  of  countenance  by  fierce 
lights  and  heavy  shadows.  To-day  is  her  birth 
day,  and  mamma,  who  has  taken  a  great  fancy 
to  her,  gave  her  a  long,  wide  scarf  of  creamy 
tambour  lace.  I  presented  a  little  violet  brooch 
and  belt-buckle  of  purple  enamel,  and  by  hard 
labor  extracted  from  Mrs.  MacGill  a  hideous 
little  jug  of  Aller  Yale  pottery  with  "  Think 
of  Me  "  printed  on  it.  Think  of  her,  indeed  ! 
One  can  always  do  that  without  having  one's 
memory  jogged,  or  jugged.  Sir  Archibald 
joined  in  the  affair  most  amiably  and  offered  a 
red-bound  Dartmoor  Guide  which  he  chanced 
to  have  with  him.  When  we  made  our  little 
gifts  and  I  draped  Miss  Evesham  in  her  tam 
bour  scarf,  she  looked  only  twenty-seven  and 


AT  THE  INN  65 

a  half  by  the  clock  !  I  wanted  to  put  a  flower 
in  her  hair,  but  she  shook  her  head,  saying, 
"  Roses  are  for  young  and  lovely  people  like 
you,  Virginia,  who  have  other  roses  to  match 
in  their  cheeks."  I  was  pleased  that  Sir  Archi 
bald  was  so  friendly  about  the  simple  birth 
day  festivities.  I  can  forgive  being  snubbed 
a  little  myself,  or  if  not  exactly  snubbed, 
treated  as  a  mysterious  (and  inferior)  being 
from  another  planet ;  but  if  he  had  been  con 
descending  or  disagreeable  with  Miss  Eve- 
sham  I  should  have  hated  him.  As  it  is  I  am 
quite  grateful  for  him  as  a  distinct  addition 
to  our  dull  feminine  party.  He  is  a  new  type 
to  me,  I  confess  it,  and  I  had  not  till  to-day 
made  much  headway  in  understanding  him. 
When  a  man  has  positively  no  shallows  one 
always  credits  him  (I  dare  say  falsely)  with 
immeasurable  depths.  His  unlikeness  to  all 
the  men  I  've  known  increases  his  charm. 
He  seems  to  attach  such  undue  importance 
to  small  attentions,  as  if  they  meant  not 
only  a  loss  of  dignity  to  the  man,  but  an  un- 


66  THE  AFFAIR 

wise  feeding  of  the  woman's  vanity  as  well. 
He  gave  me  the  Black  Watch  ribbon  for  my 
banjo  with  as  much  inward  hesitation  and 
fear  as  Breck  Calhoun  would  feel  in  asking 
me  to  share  his  future  on  nothing  a  year. 
He  did  n't  grudge  the  ribbon,  not  he !  but 
he  was  awfully  afraid  it  might  prove  too  en 
couraging  a  symptom  for  me  to  bear  hum 
bly  and  modestly. 

Then  that  little  affair  of  yesterday  —  was 
there  ever  anything  more  characteristic  or 
more  unexpected  !  I  am  certain  he  followed 
me  into  the  lane  for  a  walk,  and  would  have 
joined  me  if  Madam  Spoil-Sport  had  not 
been  my  companion.  Then  came  the  stam 
pede  of  the  hill  ponies,  which  may  or  may 
not  have  been  a  frightful  and  dangerous 
episode.  I  can  only  say  it  seemed  so  terrify 
ing  that  I  should  have  fainted  if  I  had  n't 
been  so  surprised  at  Sir  Archibald's  beha 
viour  ;  and  I  'm  not  at  all  a  fainting  sort  of 
person,  either. 

Mrs.  Mac  Gill  never  looked  more  shapeless 


AT  THE  INN  67 

and  stupid,  and  having  been  uncommonly 
selfish  and  peevish  that  day,  was  even  less 
worth  preserving  than  usual.  I  don't  know 
what  the  etiquette  is  in  regard  to  life-saving. 
No  doubt  the  (worthy)  aged  should  always 
have  the  first  chance,  but  in  any  event  I 
should  think  a  man  would  evince  some  slight 
regret  at  seeing  a  young  and  lovely  creature, 
just  on  the  threshold  of  life,  stamped  into 
jelly  by  a  herd  of  snorting  ponies  !  But  Sir 
Archibald  apparently  did  not  care  what  hap 
pened  to  me  so  long  as  he  could  rescue  his 
countrywoman.  I  waited  quite  still  in  that 
awful  moment  when  the  clattering  herd  was 
charging  down  upon  us,  confident  that  a  man 
of  his  strength  and  coolness  would  look  out 
for  us  both.  But  he  snatched  the  sacred 
person  of  the  Killjoy,  threw  her  against  a 
gate,  stood  in  front  of  her,  and  with  out 
stretched  arms  defied  the  oncoming  foe.  His 
gesture,  his  courage,  the  look  in  his  eye? 
would  have  made  the  wildest  pony  quail.  It 
did  more,  —  it  made  me  quail ;  but  in  the 


68  THE  AFFAIR 

same  instant  he  shouted  to  me,  "  Look  out 
for  yourself  and  be  sharp !  Shin  up  that 
bank !  Look  alive ! " 

Shinning  was  not  my  customary  attitude, 
but  it  was  not  mine  "  to  make  reply."  I 
shinned;  that  is  all  there  is  to  say  about 
the  matter.  I  was  "  sharp"  and  I  did  "look 
alive/'  being  deserted  by  my  natural  pro 
tector.  I,  Virginia  Pomeroy,  aged  twenty- 
two,  native  of  Kichmond,  U.  S.  A.,  clam 
bered  up  one  of  those  steep  banks  found 
only  in  Devonshire  lanes,  —  a  ten  or  twelve 
foot  bank,  crowned  with  a  straggling,  ragged 
hedge  of  thorn.  I  dug  my  fingers  and  toes 
into  the  earth  and  clutched  at  grass  tufts, 
roots,  or  anything  clutchable,  and  ended 
by  tumbling  into  a  thicket  of  freshly  cut 
beechen  twigs.  I  was  as  angry  as  I  had 
breath  to  be,  but  somehow  I  was  awed  by 
the  situation  :  by  Mrs.  MacGilFs  trembling 
gratitude;  by  Sir  Archibald's  presence  of 
mind ;  by  his  imperious  suggestion  as  to  my 
way  of  escape,  for  I  could  never  have  climbed 


Copyright,  1£»4.  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 

"LooK  OUT  FOR  YOURSELF!    SHIX  UP  THAT  BANK! 


AT  THE  INN  69 

that  sheer  wall  of  earth  unless  I  had  been 
ordered  to  in  good  set  terms.  Coming  down 
from  my  heights  a  few  minutes  later,  looking 
like  an  intoxicated  lady  who  has  resisted  the 
well-meant  advice  of  a  policeman,  I  put  Mrs. 
MacGill  together  and  shook  Sir  Archibald's 
hand.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  why ;  he  did 
precious  little  for  me,  but  he  had  been  some 
thing  of  a  hero,  nevertheless. 

"  Shin  up  that  bank  and  look  alive ! " 
I  was  never  spoken  to  in  that  way  before, 
in  all  my  life.  I  wish  Breck  Calhoun  could 
have  heard  him  ! 


70  THE  AFFAIR 


Mrs.    MacGill 

Saturday  afternoon 

I  HAVE  had  a  terrible  experience,  which  has 
upset  me  completely  and  damaged  my  right 
knee,  besides  agitating  me  so  much  that  I  can 
scarcely  remember  how  it  happened.  I  have 
read  that  a  drowning  man  sees  his  whole 
life  before  him  in  a  flash  of  time.  It  is  dif 
ferent  with  women  perhaps.  I  saw  no  flash 
of  anything,  and  thought  only  of  myself,  — 
remembering  a  horrible  story  I  read  some 
where  about  a  horse  in  the  Crimea  that  bit 
the  faces  of  the  enemy.  Sir  Archibald  flung 
me  against  a  gate.  The  intention  was  kind,  I 
dare  say,  but  even  then  I  could  just  hear  the 
beads  ripping  off  my  mantle,  as  I  fell  against 
the  bars.  The  lane  seemed  full  of  ponies, 
all  screaming,  as  I  did  n't  know  horses  could 
scream,  and  kicking  like  so  many  grasshop 
pers. 


AT  THE  INN  71 

"  It's  all  right !  Nothing  has  happened  !  " 
he  called  to  the  girl,  when  the  herd  receded. 

66 1  don't  know  what  you  two  call  hap 
pened/'  I  said,  as  soon  as  I  could  speak. 
"  We  have  been  nearly  killed  —  all  of  us, 
especially  me." 

I  looked  at  Miss  Pomeroy ;  so  did  Sir 
Archibald.  She  is  an  active  girl,  and  at  the 
first  suggestion  of  danger  she  had  scrambled 
headlong  up  a  steep  bank,  where  she  clung 
to  the  roots  of  the  hedge,  entirely  forget 
ting  all  about  me.  She  now  came  down, 
and  required  some  assistance  in  descending, 
although  she  had  climbed  up,  which  is 
more  difficult,  all  in  a  moment.  She  was 
certainly  pale  —  really  pale  for  the  first 
time  since  she  came  here,  and  did  not  seem 
to  think  about  her  hat,  which  was  hang 
ing  half-way  down  her  back  by  this  time. 
Poor  Mr.  Mac  Gill  used  always  to  say  that 
when  a  pretty  girl  forgot  her  appearance 
there  was  something  really  serious  in  the  air. 
She  seemed  to  have  forgotten,  but  I  dare 


72  THE  AFFAIR 

say  she  really  was  thinking  that  she  looked 
nicer  that  way.  She  came  up  to  the  young 
man,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  saying, 
"  Thank  you,  Sir  Archibald."  Americans  are 
very  forward,  certainly.  If  I  had  said  "  Thank 
you,"  and  offered  to  shake  hands  with  him, 
there  might  have  been  some  reason  for  it, 
although  I  never  thought  of  doing  so;  it 
was  decidedly  Me  that  Sir  Archibald  had 
rescued.  This  did  not  seem  to  make  a  bit 
of  difference  to  them,  however.  He  took  her 
hand  and  shook  it,  and  then  I  must  say 
had  the  civility  to  give  Me  his  arm,  and  we 
all  walked  back  to  the  hotel.  I  felt  so  shat 
tered  that  I  went  to  bed  for  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon. 


AT  THE  INN  73 

Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

GREY  TOR  INX 

MRS.  MAcGiLL  is  not  the  kind  of  person 
you  'd  associate  with  danger,  —  being  an  arm- 
chair-and-feather-bed  sort  of  character,  — 
yet,  by  Jingo,  the  old  girl  has  had  a  nar 
row  squeak  to-day.  She  and  Miss  Virginia 
went  out  for  a  walk  together,  the  com 
panion  being  invisible  with  the  usual  head 
ache.  I  thought  I  would  follow  them  a  little 
way.  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  is  an  interfering  old  per 
son,  and  I  have  noticed  of  late  that  she 
scents  a  flirtation  between  the  fair  American 
and  me.  Whether  there  is  a  flirtation  or  not, 
I  don't  know  (/  am  not  learned  in  such 
things) ;  but  if  there  were,  she  is  not  the 
person  to  stop  it,  nor  any  other  old  cat  on 
earth.  She  has  merely  succeeded  —  I  wish 
she  knew  —  in  putting  it  into  my  head  that 
American  girls  are  apt  to  be  exceedingly 


74  THE  AFFAIE 

attractive  as  well  as  eligible  in  the  matrimo 
nial  market.  I  should  think  Miss  Virginia 
was  as  eligible  as  any  of  them,  and  better- 
looking  than  most. 

I  kept  the  pair  in  sight,  and  it  was  lucky 
that  I  did.  A  tremendous  explosion  from 
a  quarry  where  some  men  are  blasting  made 
me  stop  short,  and  as  to  the  old  girl  in 
front,  she  leaped  about  a  foot  into  the  air, 
and  I  could  hear  Miss  Virginia  laugh  and 
say  something  funny  about  ankles  and  white 
stockings.  Just  then  a  most  extraordinary 
noise  began  at  the  top  of  the  lane,  a  pound 
ing  of  hoofs  and  grinding  of  gravel  and 
flying  of  stones  ;  and  in  another  minute, 
round  the  corner  of  this  lane,  which  was 
of  the  narrowest  sort  and  nearly  roofed 
in  with  trees  and  banks,  as  these  beastly 
Devonshire  lanes  always  are,  came  a  herd 
of  moor  ponies  —  about  twenty  or  thirty  of 
them  —  squeaking  and  biting  and  kicking, 
in  a  regular  stampede.  The  report  of  the 
blasting  had  startled  them,  I  don't  doubt, 


AT  THE  INN  76 

and  part  terror,  part  vice,  made  them  kick 
up  a  shindy  and  set  off  at  full  gallop. 
There  was  n't  a  moment  to  lose.  I  ran  for 
the  women,  with  a  shout,  thinking  only  of 
the  young  one,  of  course.  But  when  I  saw 
the  two  together,  there  was  n't  a  question 
of  which  I  must  help.  Miss  Virginia  had 
legs  of  her  own ;  if  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  had  any, 
they  were  past  helping  her  now.  There  was 
a  sort  of  hurdle  to  the  right ;  I  managed 
to  jam  the  old  woman  against  it  and  shout 
to  the  girl,  "  Shin  up  that  bank !  Look 
alive !  "  while  I  stood  in  front,  waving  my 
arms  and  carrying  on  like  a  madman  to 
frighten  the  ponies.  They  bore  down  on  us 
in  a  swelter  of  dust ;  but  just  when  they  were 
within  about  a  yard  of  our  position,  they 
swerved  to  the  left,  stopped  half  a  second, 
looking  at  us  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes, 
snuffed  the  air,  snorted,  gave  a  squeal  or 
two  more,  and  galloped  off  down  the  lane. 
It  was  a  pretty  narrow  shave,  —  nothing,  of 
course,  if  the  women  had  n't  been  there. 


76  THE  AFFAIR 

Miss  Virginia  and  I  shook  hands  over  it, 
and  between  us  we  got  the  old  lady  back 
to  the  hotel,  nearly  melted  with  fright. 

That  night  after  dinner  I  was  smoking  on 
the  verandah  in  front  of  the  hotel.  I  heard 
Miss  Virginia  singing  as  she  crossed  the 
hall,  and  looked  in. 

"  It 's  rather  a  jolly  night,  Miss  Pomeroy," 
I  said,  "  not  at  all  cold." 

"  Is  n't  it  ?  "  she  asked,  and  came  to  the 
door. 

"There  's  a  comfortable  seat  here,"  I 
added,  "  and  the  verandah  keeps  off  the 
wind  from  the  moor." 

She  came  out.  It  was  quite  dark,  for  the 
sky  was  cloudy  and  there  was  no  moon,  but 
there  was  a  splash  of  light  where  we  sat, 
from  the  hall  window,  so  that  I  could  see 
Miss  Virginia  and  she  could  see  me.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  very  pretty  frock,  all  pink 
and  white,  and  I  have  certainly  now  come 
round  to  the  artist's  opinion  that  she  is  an 
uncommonly  pretty  girl ;  not  that  I  care  for 


AT  THE  INN  77 

pretty  girls,  —  of  course  they  are  the  worst 
kind,  and  I  have  always  avoided  them  so  far. 

"  Well/'  said  Miss  Virginia,  "  you  've  done 
a  fairly  good  day's  work,  I  should  think, 
and  can  go  to  bed  with  an  easy  conscience 
and  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just !  " 

"  Why,  particularly  ?  "  I  inquired  bash- 
fully. 

"  Why  ?"  cried  Miss  Virginia.  "  Have  n't 
you  rescued  Age  and  Scotland  from  a  cruel 
death  ?  I  suppose  it  did  n't  matter  to  you 
what  became  of  Youth  and  America.  But 
I  forgive  you,  you  managed  the  other  so 
well." 

I  could  n't  help  laughing  and  getting 
rather  red,  and  Miss  Virginia  gave  me  a 
wicked  look  out  of  her  black  eyes. 

"  Why,  Miss  Pomeroy,"  I  said  in  a  con 
fused  way,  "  don't  you  see  how  it  was  ?  I 
argued  to  myself  you  had  your  own  legs  to 
save  yourself  on,  while  "  — 

But  here  Miss  Virginia  jumped  up  with  a 
little  scream. 


78  THE  AFFAIK 

"We  don't  talk  about  legs  that  way, 
where  I  come  from  !  "  she  said,  but  I  saw  she 
was  not  really  shocked,  only  laughing,  with 
the  rum  little  dimples  coming  out  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  Won't  you  shake  hands  again,"  I  sug 
gested,  "to  show  you  have  quite  forgiven 
me?" 

Miss  Virginia's  hand  was  in  mine,  I  was 
holding  it,  when  who  should  come  to  the 
door  and  look  out  but  Mrs.  MacGill. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  cold  and  damp  for  you 
to  be  out  at  this  hour,  Miss  Pomeroy/'  she 
remarked  pointedly. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  is,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  said 
Miss  Virginia,  as  cool  as  you  please,  lifting 
up  the  long  tail  of  her  dress  and  making  a 
little  face  at  me  over  her  shoulder. 

Mrs.  MacGill  gave  a  long  sniff  and  never 
budged  till  Miss  Virginia  was  safely  inside. 
The  old  harridan  —  I  '11  teach  her  a  lesson 
if  she  does  n't  mend  her  manners  ! 


AT  THE  INN  79 

Cecilia  Evesham 

Friday  evening 

HERE  I  was  interrupted,  and  now  something 
new  has  happened  that  requires  telling,  so 
I  '11  skip  our  adventures  of  Thursday  after 
noon,  and  go  on  to  Friday.  .  .  . 

Well,  this  morning  I  came  down  to  break- 

'  O 

fast,  almost  blind  with  neuralgia.  I  strug 
gled  on  till  luncheon,  when  it  became  un 
bearable.  Virginia  (I  call  her  that  already) 
looked  at  me  in  the  kindest  way  during  the 
meal. 

"  You  're  ill,"  she  said.  "  You  need  put 
ting  to  bed." 

Mrs.  MacGill  looked  surprised.  "  Cecilia 
is  never  very  ill,"  she  observed  tepidly. 

"  She 's  ill  now,  no  mistake,"  Virginia 
persisted,  and  rose  and  came  round  to  my 
side  of  the  table.  "  Come  and  let  me  help 
you  upstairs  and  put  you  to  bed." 


80  THE  AFFAIR 

I  was  too  ill  to  resist,  and  she  led  me  to 
my  room  and  tucked  me  up  comfortably. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "this  headache  wants 
peace  of  mind  to  cure  it,  I  know  the  kind. 
You  can't  get  peace  for  thinking  about  Mrs. 
Mac  Gill.  I  'm  going  to  take  her  off  your 
mind  for  the  afternoon  --  it 's  time  I  tried 
companioning  —  no  girl  knows  when  she 
may  need  to  earn  a  living.  You  won't  know 
your  Mrs.  MacGill  when  you  get  her  again ! 
I  '11  dress  her  up  and  walk  her  out,  and 
humour  her." 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  me  r.s  she 
spoke.  It  was  the  sweetest  kiss !  Her  face 
is  like  a  peach  to  feel,  and  her  clothes  have 
a  delicious  scent  of  violets.  Somehow  all  my 
troubles  seemed  to  smooth  out.  She  rustled 
away  in  her  silk-lined  skirts,  and  I  fell  into 
a  much  needed  sleep,  feeling  that  all  would 
be  well. 

I  was  mistaken,  however.  All  did  not  go 
well,  but  on  the  contrary  something  very 
unfortunate  happened  while  I  was  sleeping 


AT  THE  INN  81 

eo  quietly.  It  must  have  been  about  four 
o'clock  when  I  was  wakened  by  Virginia 
coming  into  my  room  again.  She  looked  a 
little  ruffled  and  pale. 

"  I  've  brought  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  back  to  you, 
Miss  Evesham,"  she  said,  "  but  it 's  thanks 
to  Sir  Archibald,  not  to  me.  She  will  tell 
you  all  about  it."  With  that  Mrs.  MacGill 
came  tottering  into  the  room,  plumped  down 
upon  the  edge  of  my  bed,  and  began  a 
breathless,  incoherent  story  in  which  wild 
ponies,  stampedes,  lanes,  Sir  Archibald,  and 
herself  were  all  mixed  up  together. 

"  Did  he  really  save  you  from  a  bad  ac 
cident  ?  "  I  asked  Virginia,  for  it  was  im- 

o 

possible  to  make  out  anything  from  Mrs. 
MacGill. 

Virginia  nodded.  "  He  did,  Cecilia,  and 
I  like  him,"  she  said. 

"  Oh  ho  !  "  I  thought.  "  Is  it  possible  that 
I  am  going  to  be  mixed  up  in  a  romance  ? 
She  likes  him,  does  she  ?  Very  good ;  we 
shall  see." 


82  THE  AFFAIR 

And  then,  because  the  world  always  ap 
pears  a  neutral-tinted  place  to  me,  without 
high  lights  of  any  kind,  I  rebuked  myself 
for  imagining  that  anything  lively  could 
ever  come  my  way.  "  I  could  n't  even  look 
on  at  anything  romantic  nowadays,"  I 
thought,  "  I  doubt  if  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  romance;  it's  just  a  figment  of  youth. 
Come,  Mrs.  MacGill,  I  '11  find  your  knit 
ting  for  you,"  I  said ;  "  that  will  compose 
you  better  than  anything  else." 


AT  THE  INN 


IV 

Virginia  Pomeroy 

THE  GREY  TOR  INN 


w, 


E  had  rather  a  nice  half  hour  at  Lit 
tle  Widger  to-day,  Sir  Archibald  and  I, 
Of  course  we  were  walking.  It  is  still  incom 
prehensible  to  me,  the  comfort,  the  pleasure 
even,  these  people  get  out  of  the  simple  use 
of  their  legs.  We  passed  "Wishtcot  and 
Wildycombe  and  then  came  upon  Little 
Widger,  not  having  known  of  its  existence. 
The  tiny  hamlet  straggles  down  a  side  hill 
and  turns  a  corner,  to  terminate  in  the  vil 
lage  inn,  quaintly  named  "  The  Mug  0'  Ci 
der."  An  acacia  laden  with  yellow  tassels 
hangs  over  the  stone  gate,  purple  and  white 
lilacs  burst  through  the  hedges,  and  there 
is  a  cob-and-thatch  cottage,  with  a  daz- 


84  THE  AFFAIR 

zling  white  hawthorn  in  front  of  it  and  a 
black  pig  nosing  at  the  gate. 

Oh,  the  loveliness  of  that  May  noon,  a 
sunny  noon  for  once ;  the  freshness  of  the 
beeches ;  the  golden  brown  of  the  oaks ; 
above  all  the  shimmering  beauty  of  the 
young  birches !  It  was  as  if  the  sap  had 
just  brimmed  and  trembled  into  leaves ;  as 
if  each  drop  had  thinned  itself  into  a  trans 
parent  oval  of  liquid  green. 

The  sight  of  Mrs.  MacGill  being  dragged 
by  Greytoria  over  a  very  distant  hill  was 
soothing  in  itself,  or  it  would  have  been  if  I 
had  n't  known  Miss  Evesham  was  toiling  up 
beside  her.  We  were  hungry  and  certain  of 
being  late  to  luncheon,  so  Sir  Archibald  pro 
posed  food  of  some  sort  at  the  inn.  He  had 
cold  meat,  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  tankard 
of  Devonshire  cider,  while  I  had  delicious 
junket,  clouted  cream,  and  stewed  apple. 
Before  starting  on  our  long  homeward  stroll 
we  had  a  cosy  chat,  the  accessories  being  a 
fire,  a  black  cat,  and  a  pipe,  with  occasional 


AT  THE  INN  S£ 

incursions  by  a  small  maid  -  servant  who 
looked  exactly  like  a  Devonshire  hill  pony, 
—  strong,  sturdy,  stocky,  heavy-footed,  and 
tangled  as  to  mane. 

We  were  discussing  our  common  lack  of 
relatives.  "  I  have  no  one  but  my  mother 
and  two  distant  cousins,"  I  said. 

The  sympathetic  man  would  have  mur 
mured,  "  Poor  little  soul !  "  and  the  too  sen 
timental  one  would  have  seized  the  opportu 
nity  to  exclaim,  "  Then  let  me  be  all  in  all  to 
you  !  "  But  Sir  Archibald  removed  his  pipe 
and  remarked,  "  Good  thing,  too,  I  dare 
say ; "  and  then  in  a  moment  continued 
with  graceful  tact  and  frankness,  "They 
say  you  can't  tell  anything  about  an  Ameri 
can  family  by  seeing  one  of  'em." 

Upon  my  word,  the  hopeless  candour  of 
these  our  brethren  of  the  British  Isles  is 
astonishing.  Sometimes  after  a  prolonged 
conversation  with  two  or  three  of  them  I 
feel  like  going  about  the  drawing-room  with 
a  small  broom  and  dust-pan  and  sweeping 


86  THE  AFFAIR 

up  the  home  truths  that  should  lie  in  scat 
tered  profusion  on  the  floor ;  and  which  do, 
no  doubt,  were  my  eyes  as  keen  in  seeing 
as  my  ears  in  hearing. 

However,  I  responded  meekly,  "  I  suppose 
that  is  true ;  but  I  doubt  if  the  peculiarity  is 
our  exclusive  possession.  None  of  my  rela 
tives  belonged  to  the  criminal  classes,  and 
they  could  all  read  and  write,  but  I  dare  say 
some  of  them  were  more  desirable  than  others 
from  a  social  point  of  view.  It  must  be  so 
delicious  to  belong  to  an  order  of  things 
that  never  questions  itself !  Breckinridge 
Calhoun  says  that  is  the  one  reason  he  can 
never  quite  get  on  with  the  men  over  here 
at  first ;  which  always  makes  me  laugh,  for 
in  his  way,  as  a  rabid  Southerner,  he  is  just 
as  bad." 

There  was  quite  an  interval  here  in  which 
the  fire  crackled,  the  black  cat  purred,  and 
the  pipe  puffed.  Sir  Archibald  broke  the 
cosy  silence  by  asking,  "  Who  is  this  Mr. 
Calhoun  whom  you  and  your  mother  men 
tion  so  often  ?  " 


AT  THE  INN  87 

The  conversation  that  ensued  was  quite  a 
lengthy  one,  but  I  will  report  as  much  of  it 
as  I  can  remember.  It  was  like  this :  - 

Jinny :  Breckenridge  Calhoun  is  my 
"childhood's  friend/'  the  kind  of  man  whose 
estates  join  yours,  who  has  known  you  ever 
since  you  were  born  ;  liked  you,  quarrelled 
with  you,  forgotten  you,  and  been  sweet 
upon  you  by  turns  ;  and  who  finally  marries 
you,  when  you  have  both  given  up  hope 
of  finding  anybody  more  original  and  start 
ling.  —  By  the  way,  am  I  the  first  American 
girl  you  Ve  met  ? 

Sir  A.:  Not  the  first  I  Ve  met,  but  the 
first  I  Ve  known.  There  was  a  jolly  sort  of 
schoolgirl  from  Indiana  whom  I  saw  at  my 
old  aunt's  house  in  Edinburgh.  There  were 
half  a  dozen  elderly  tabbies  pressing  tea 
and  scones  on  her,  and  she  cried,  just  as  I 
was  coming  in  the  door,  "  Oh,  no  more  tea, 
please  !  I  could  hear  my  last  scone  splash  !  " 

Jinny,  shaking  with  laughter:  Oh,  how 
lovely  !  I  am  so  glad  you  had  such  a  pic- 


88  THE  AFFAIR 

turesque  and  fearless  young  person  as  a 
first  experience ;  but  as  she  has  been  your 
only  instructress  you  have  much  to  learn,, 
and  I  might  as  well  begin  my  duty  to  you 
at  once. 

Sir  A.:  You're  taking  a  deal  of  trouble. 

Jinny  :  Oh,  it  's  no  trouble,  but  a  pleasure 
rather,  to  put  a  fellow-being  on  the  right 
track.  You  must  first  disabuse  your  mind  of 
the  American  girl  as  you  find  her  in  books. 

Sir  A. :  Don't  have  to;  never  read  'em. 

Jinny :  Very  well,  then,  —  the  American 
girl  of  the  drama  and  casual  conversation ; 
that 's  worse.  You  must  forget  her  supposed 
freedom  of  thought  and  speech,  her  rustling 
silk  skirts,  her  jingling  side  bag  or  chatelaine, 
her  middle  initial,  her  small  feet  and  hands, 
her  high  heels,  her  extravagant  dress,  her  for 
tune,  —  which  only  one  in  ten  thousand  pos 
sesses,  —  her  overworked  father  and  weakly 
indulgent  mother,  called  respectively  poppa 
and  momma.  These  are  but  accessories,  — 
the  frame,  not  the  picture.  They  exist,  that 


AT  THE  INN  &9 

is  quite  true,  but  no  girl  has  the  whole  list, 
thank  goodness  !  I,  for  example,  have  only 
one  or  two  of  the  entire  lot. 

Sir  A..:  Which  ones?  I  was  just  thinking 
you  had  'em  all. 

Jinny  :  You  must  find  out  something  for 
yourself !  The  foundation  idea  of  modern 
education  is  to  make  the  pupil  the  discoverer 
of  his  own  knowledge.  As  I  was  saying 
when  interrupted,  if  you  remove  these  oc 
casional  accompaniments  of  the  American 
girl  you  find  simply  the  same  old  u  eternal 
feminine."  Of  course  there  is  a  wide  range 
of  choice.  You  seem  to  think  over  here  that 
there  is  only  one  kind  of  American  girl ;  but 
if  you  would  only  go  into  the  subject  deeply 
you  would  find  fat  and  lean,  bright  and  dull, 
pert  and  meek,  some  that  could  only  have 
been  discovered  by  Columbus,  others  that 
might  have  been  brought  up  in  the  rocky 
fastnesses  of  a  pious  Scottish  home. 

Sir  A. :  I  don't  get  on  with  girls  particu 
larly  well. 


90  THE  AFFAIR 

Jinny :  I  can  quite  fancy  that !  Not 
one  American  girl  in  a  hundred  would  take 
the  trouble  to  understand  you.  You  need 
such  a  lot  of  understanding  that  an  indolent 
girl  or  a  reserved  one  or  a  spoiled  one  or 
a  busy  one  would  keep  thinking,  "  Does  it 
pay?" 

Sir  A. ,  reddening  and  removing  his  pipe 
thoughtfully,  pressing  down  the  tobacco  in 
the  bowl :  Hullo,  you  can  hit  out  when  you 
like. 

Jinny  :  I  am  not  "  hitting  out ;  "  I  get 
on  delightfully  well  with  you  because  I  have 
lots  of  leisure  just  now  to  devote  to  your 
case.  Of  course  it  would  be  a  great  economy 
of  time  and  strength  if  you  chose  to  meet 
people  halfway,  or  perhaps  an  eighth  !  It 's 
only  the  amenities  of  the  public  street,  after 
all,  that  casual  acquaintances  need,  in  order 
to  have  a  pleasant  time  along  the  way.  The 
private  path  is  quite  another  thing ;  even  I 
put  out  the  sign  "  No  thoroughfare  "  over 
that;  but  I  don't  see  why  you  need  build 


AT  THE  INN  91 

bramble  hedges  across  the  common  roads  of 
travel.  —  Do  you  know  what  a  "  scare-cat " 
is? 

Sir.  A.  :  Can't  say  I  do. 

Jinny :  It 's  a  nice  expressive  word  be 
longing  to  the  infants'  vocabulary  of  slang. 
I  think  you  are  regular  "  scare-cats "  over 
here,  when  it  comes  to  the  treatment  of  casual 
acquaintances.  You  must  be  clever  enough 
to  know  a  lady  or  a  gentleman  when  you  see 
one,  and  you  don't  take  such  frightful  risks 
with  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

During  this  entire  colloquy  Sir  Archibald 
Maxwell  Mackenzie,  Baronet,  of  Kindarroch, 
eyed  me  precisely  as  if  he  had  been  a  dignified 
mastiff  observing  the  incomprehensible  frisk- 
ings  of  a  playful,  foolish  puppy  of  quite 
another  species.  "  Good  Heavens,"  thinks  the 
mastiff,  raising  his  eyes  in  devout  astonish 
ment,  "  can  I  ever  at  any  age  have  disported 
myself  like  that  ?  The  creature  seems  to  have 
positively  none  of  my  qualities ;  I  wonder  if 
it  really  is  a  dog?" 


92  THE  AFFAIR 

"  Do  you  approve  of  marriage,  —  go  in  for 
it  ?  "  queried  Sir  Archibald  in  a  somewhat 
startling  manner,  after  a  long  pause  and 
puffing  steadily  the  while. 

"  I  approve  of  it  entirely,"  I  answered, 
"  especially  for  men  ;  women  are  terribly 
hampered  by  it,  to  be  sure." 

"  I  should  have  put  that  in  exactly  the 
opposite  way,"  he  said  thoughtfuUy. 

"  I  know  you  would,"  I  retorted,  "  and 
that 's  precisely  the  reason  I  phrased  it  as  I 
did.  One  must  keep  your  attention  alive  by 
some  means  or  other,  else  it  would  go  on 
strike  and  quit  work  altogether." 

Sir  Archibald  threw  back  his  head  and 
broke  into  an  unexpected  peal  of  laughter 
at  this.  "  Come  along  out  of  doors,  Miss 
Virginia  Pomeroy,"  he  said,  standing  up 
and  putting  his  pipe  in  his  pocket.  "  You  're 
an  awfully  good  chap,  American  or  not !  " 


AT  THE  INN  93 

Mrs.  MacGill 

Sunday  evening 

THIS  day  has  been  very  wet.  I  had  fully 
intended  to  go  to  church,  because  I  always 
make  a  point  of  doing  so  unless  too  ill  to 
move,  as  I  consider  it  fully  more  a  duty  than 
a  privilege,  and  example  is  everything.  How 
ever,  after  the  fright  I  had  yesterday,  and 
the  shaking,  I  had  such  a  pain  in  my  right 
knee  that  devotion  was  out  of  the  question, 
even  had  my  mantle  been  fit  to  put  on  (which 
it  won't  be  until  Cecilia  has  mended  all  the 
trimming),  so  I  resolved  to  stay  quietly  in 
bed.  After  luncheon  I  could  get  no  sleep, 
for  Miss  Pomeroy  was  singing  things  which 
Cecilia  says  are  camp  meeting  hymns. 
They  sounded  to  me  like  a  circus,  but  they 
may  introduce  dance  music  at  church  services 
in  New  York,  and  make  horses  dance  to  it, 
too.  Anything  is  possible  to  a  people  that 


94  THE  AFFAIR 

can  produce  girls  like  Virginia  Pomeroy. 
One  can  hardly  believe  in  looking  at  her 
that  she  belongs  to  the  nation  of  Longfel 
low,  who  wrote  that  lovely  poem  on  Maid 
enhood.  Poor  Mr.  MacGill  used  to  be  very 
fond  of  it :  — 

"  Standing,  with  reluctant  feet, 
Where  the  brook  and  river  meet." 

Even  if  there  were  a  river  here  (we  can  see 
nothing  of  the  Dart  from  this  hotel),  one 
could  never  connect  Miss  Pomeroy  with 
6  reluctant  feet '  in  any  way.  She  has  quite 
got  hold  of  that  unfortunate  young  man. 
With  my  poor  health,  and  sleeping  so  badly, 
it  is  very  difficult  for  me  to  interfere,  but 
justice  to  the  son  of  my  old  friend  will  make 
me  do  what  I  can. 

About  half  past  five  I  came  down  and 
could  see  nobody.  Mrs.  Pomeroy  suffers 
from  the  same  tickling  cough  as  I  do,  after 
drinking  tea,  and  had  gone  to  her  own  room. 
Cecilia  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  I  asked  the 
waiter,  who  is  red-faced  but  a  Methodist,  to 


AT  THE  INN  95 

tell  me  where  she  was,  and  he  told  me  in  the 
Billiard  Room.  Of  course  I  did  n't  know 
where  I  was  going,  or  I  should  never  have 
entered  it,  especially  on  a  wet  Sunday  after 
noon  ;  but  when  I  opened  the  door  I  stood 
horrified  by  what  I  saw. 

Miss  Porneroy  may  be  accustomed  to  such 
a  place  (I  have  read  that  they  are  called 
"  brandy  saloons  "  in  America),  but  I  never 
saw  anything  like  it.  There  was  a  great  deal 
of  tobacco,  which  at  once  set  up  my  tick 
ling  cough.  Sir  Archibald  was  holding  what 
gamblers  call  a  cue,  and  rubbing  it  with 
chalk,  I  suppose  to  deaden  the  sound.  On 
a  table — there  were  several  chairs  in  the 
room,  so  it  cannot  have  been  by  mistake  — 
sat  Miss  Pomeroy  and  Cecilia.  The  Ameri 
can  was  strumming  on  a  be-ribboned  banjo. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  MacGill,  I  thought  you  were 
asleep,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  I  wish  I  were  ;  but  I  fear  that  what  I  see 
is  only  too  true.  Pray,  Cecilia,  come  away 
with  me  at  once,"  I  exclaimed. 


96  THE  AFFAIR 

Sir  Archibald  had  placed  a  chair  for  me, 
but  I  took  no  notice  of  it,  except  to  say, 
"  I  'm  surprised  that  you  don't  offer  me  a 
seat  on  the  table." 

We  left  the  room  at  once,  and  I  spoke 
to  Cecilia  with  some  severity,  saying  that 
I  could  never  countenance  such  on-goings, 
and  that  Miss  Pomeroy  was  leading  her  all 
wrong.  "  If  she  is  determined  to  marry  a 
baronet,"  I  said,  "  let  her  do  it ;  but  even 
an  American  might  think  it  more  necessary 
that  a  baronet  should  be  determined  to  marry 
her,  and  might  shrink  from  such  a  form  of 
pursuit.  Well,  if  you  are  determined  to 
laugh  at  me,"  I  went  on,  "there  must  be 
some  other  arrangement  between  us,  but  you 
cannot  leave  me  at  present,  alone  on  a  hill 
side  like  this,  just  after  influenza,  amongst 
herds  of  wild  ponies." 

Cecilia  cried  at  last,  and  upset  me  so  much 
that  I  had  another  bad  night,  suffering  much 
from  my  knee,  and  obliged  to  have  a  cup  of 
cocoa  at  2.30  A.  M.  Cecilia  appeared  half 


AT  THE  INN  97 

asleep  as  she  made  it,  although  the  day  be 
fore  she  could  spring  out  of  bed  the  moment 
the  light  came  in,  to  look  at  the  sunrise. 
These  so-called  poetic  natures  are  very  puz 
zling  and  inconsistent. 


98  THE  AFFAIR 


Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

THERE  is  no  doubt,  alas !  that  the  weather  is 
improving  and  that  we  shall  soon  be  in  for 
that  picnic.  I  have  promised  the  motor  and 
promised  my  society.  There  is  something 
about  that  girl  which  makes  me  feel  and  act 
in  a  way  I  hardly  think  is  quite  normal.  She 
forces  me  to  do  things  I  don't  want  to  do,  and 
the  things  don't  seem  so  bad  in  themselves, 
at  least  as  long  as  she  is  there.  The  artist  I 
saw  at  Exeter  has  turned  up  here,  the  one 
who  comes  to  look  at  the  gorse ;  at  any  rate 
he  makes  a  man  to  speak  to,  which  is  a  mer 
ciful  variety.  He  talks  a  lot  of  rot  of  course, 
-  raves  about  the  "  blue  distance  "  here,  as 
if  it  mattered  what  colour  the  distance  is. 
But  I  think  he  is  off  his  chump  in  other  ways 
besides ;  for  instance,  he  was  saying  to-day 
he  was  sick  of  landscape  and  pining  to  try 
his  hand  at  a  portrait. 

"  There 's  your  model  all  ready,"  said  I, 


AT  THE  INN  99 

indicating  Miss  Virginia,  all  in  white,  with 
a  scarlet  parasol,  looking  as  pretty  as  a  rose. 

"  Bah  ! "  says  the  artist,  "  who  wants  to 
paint  '  the  young  person  '  whose  eyes  show 
you  a  blank  past,  a  delightful  present,  and 
a  prosperous  future  !  Eyes  that  have  cried 
are  the  only  ones  to  paint.  I  should  prefer 
the  old  lady's  companion/' 

I  felt  positively  disgusted  at  this,  but  of 
course  there  is  no  accounting  for  tastes,  and 
if  a  man  is  as  blind  as  a  bat,  he  can't  help  it ; 
only  I  wonder  he  elects  to  gain  his  livelihood 
as  an  artist. 

I  walked  with  Miss  Virginia  to-day  down 
to  the  little  village  about  a  mile  away.  It 
was  all  through  the  lanes,  and  I  could  hardly 
get  her  along  because  of  the  flowers.  The 
banks  were  certainly  quite  blue  with  violets, 
and  Miss  Virginia  would  pick  them,  though  I 
explained  it  was  waste  of  time,  for  they  would 
all  be  dead  in  half  an  hour  and  have  to  be 
thrown  away. 

"  But  if  I  make  up  a  nice  little  bunch  for 


100  THE  AFFAIR 

your  buttonhole/'  said  she,  "  will  that  be 
waste  of  time  ?  "  Of  course  I  was  obliged  to 
say  "  No/'  -  you  have  to  tell  such  lies  to 
women,  one  of  the  reasons  I  dislike  their 
society. 

"  But  of  course  you  will  throw  them  away 
as  soon  as  they  are  faded,  poor  dears  !  "  con 
tinued  Miss  Virginia. 

I  did  n't  see  what  else  a  sensible  man  could 
do  with  decaying  vegetation,  though  it  was 
plain  that  this  was  not  what  she  expected 
me  to  say.  Luckily,  the  village  came  in  sight 
at  this  moment,  so  I  was  able  to  change  the 
subject. 

Miss  Virginia  seems  very  keen  on  villages, 
and  went  on  about  the  thatched  cottages  and 
the  church  tower  and  the  lich-gate  in  such 
a  way  that  I  conclude  they  don't  have  these 
things  in  America,  where  people  are  really 
up  to  date.  It  was  in  vain  for  me  to  tell  her 
that  thatch  is  earwiggy  as  well  as  damp,  and 
that  every  sensible  landowner  is  substituting 
slate  roofs  as  fast  as  he  can.  We  went  into 


AT  THE  INN  101 

the  church,  which  was  as  cold  and  dark  as  a 
vault,  and  Miss  Virginia  was  intensely  pleased 
with  that  too,  and  I  could  hardly  get  her 
away.  In  the  mean  time,  the  sun  had  come 
out  tremendously  strong,  and  as  it  had  rained 
for  some  days  previously,  the  whole  place  was 
steaming  like  a  cauldron,  and  we  both  sud- 

O  ' 

denly  felt  most  awfully  slack. 

"  Let 's  take  a  bite  here,"  I  suggested. 
"  There  is  sure  to  be  a  pothouse  of  sorts, 
and  we  shall  be  late  for  the  hotel  luncheon 
anyway." 

The  idea  seemed  to  please  Miss  Virginia, 
and  we  hunted  for  the  pothouse  and  found 
it  in  a  corner. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dear  little  inn  !  "  cried  she. 
"  I  shall  love  anything  they  serve  here  !  " 

I  was  thinking  of  the  luncheon,  not  the 
inn,  myself,  and  did  not  expect  great  things 
from  the  look  of  the  place,  which  was  low 
and  poky,  with  thatched  eaves  and  windows 
all  buried  in  clematis  and  ivy.  A  little  cob 
bled  path  led  up  to  the  door,  with  lots  of 


102  THE  AFFAIR 

wallflower  growing  in  the  crannies  of  the 
wall  on  each  side.  There  was  nobody  but  a 
lass  to  attend  to  us,  and  she  gave  us  bread 
and  cheese,  and  clouted  cream  and  plum 
jam.  It  was  n't  bad.  Virginia  talked  ten  to 
the  dozen  all  the  time,  and  the  funny  thing 
was,  she  made  me  talk,  too.  For  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  felt  that  it  might  not  be 
a  bad  thing  to  be  friends  with  a  girl  as  you 
can  be  with  a  man,  but  such  a  thing  is  not 
possible,  of  course.  After  a  while  Virginia 
went  off  to  make  friends  with  the  landlady 
and  pick  flowers  in  the  garden.  How  beastly 
dingy  and  dark  the  inn  parlour  seemed  then, 
when  I  had  time  to  look  about !  I  felt,  all 
of  a  sudden,  most  tremendously  down  on  my 
luck.  Why?  I  have  had  these  fits  of  the 
blues  lately ;  I  think  it  must  be  the  Devon 
shire  cream ;  I  must  stop  it. 

We  got  home  all  right.  I  carried  all  Miss 
Virginia's  flowers  which  the  old  woman  had 
given  her,  —  about  a  stack  of  daffodils,  lilies, 
and  clematis. 


AT  THE  INN  103 

Cecilia  Evesham 

Sunday  evening 

I  BEGIN  to  think  I  am  what  is  called  a  psy 
chical  person,  for  I  woke  this  morning  with 
a  strong  presentiment  of  things  happening 
or  about  to  happen.  The  day  did  not  seem 
to  lend  itself  to  events ;  it  had  broken  with 
rain  lashing  the  window  panes  and  a  gale 
of  wind  blowing  through  every  crevice  of 
the  hotel.  Mrs.  MacGill  did  not  feel  able  to 
rise  for  breakfast.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  was 
more  able  to  do  so  than  I  was,  but  she  did  n't 
think  so,  which  settled  the  matter.  There 
fore  I  went  down  to  the  breakfast-room  alone. 
If  the  outer  air  was  dreary,  the  scene  in 
doors  was  very  cheerful.  A  large  fire  blazed 
in  the  grate,  and  in  front  of  the  rain-lashed 
windows  a  table  was  laid  for  three.  Vir 
ginia  and  Sir  Archibald  were  already  seated 
at  it,  and  he  rose,  as  I  came  in,  and  showed 
me  that  my  pkce  was  with  them. 


104  THE  AFFAIR 

"  We  felt  sure  that  Mrs.  MacGill  would 
not  appear  this  morning/'  he  said,  "  so  we 
thought  we  might  all  breakfast  together." 

What  a  gay  little  meal  that  was  !  Virginia 
was  at  her  brightest ;  she  would  have  made 
an  owl  laugh.  I  found  myself  forgetting 
headache  and  unhappiness,  as  I  listened  to 
her;  and  as  for  Sir  Archibald,  he  seemed 
another  man  altogether  from  the  rigid  young 
Scotchman  of  our  first  acquaintance. 

"Well,  now,  Sir  Archibald,"  said  Vir 
ginia,  as  she  rose  from  the  table,  "  the  ques 
tion  is  what  a  well  brought  up  young  man 
like  you  is  going  to  do  with  himself  all  this 
wet  day.  I  know  what  we  are  to  be  about, 
Miss  Evesham  and  I,  —  we  are  going  to  look 
at  all  my  new  Paris  gowns,  and  try  on  all 
my  best  hats." 

"  There  's  always  the  motor,"  he  said. 

Virginia  had  none  of  that  way  of  hanging 
about  with  young  men  that  English  girls 
have.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  she  was 
interested  in  Sir  Archibald,  and  wished  him 


AT  THE  INN  105 

to  be  interested  in  her,  but  apparently  for 
that  very  reason  she  would  not  let  him  see 
ioo  much  of  her  that  morning.  She  carried 
me  off  to  her  room,  and  kept  me  there  so 
long,  looking  at  her  clothes,  that  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  found  sharp  fault  with  me  when  at  last  I 
returned  to  her.  What  had  I  been  doing? 
I  might  have  known  that  she  would  want 
me,  etc. ;  she  had  decided  not  to  get  up 
until  tea  time.  "It  is  impossible  to  go  to 
church,  and  it  is  much  easier  to  employ  one's 
time  well  in  bed,"  she  said.  So  in  bed  she 
remained,  and  I  in  attendance  upon  her  un 
til  it  was  time  for  luncheon. 

When  I  went  downstairs,  Virginia  had 
also  appeared  again,  and  I  saw  the  wisdom 
and  skill  of  her  tactics ;  she  was  far  more 
pleasing  to  the  young  man  now,  because  he 
had  seen  nothing  of  her  all  morning,  and 
she  knew  it.  Sir  Archibald,  it  appeared,  had 
passed  his  time  in  the  motor-shed,  presum 
ably  either  examining  the  machinery  of  the 
motor  or  polishing  it  up.  Virginia  seemed 


106  THE  AFFAIR 

to  have  been  writing  letters ;  she  brought  a 
bundle  of  them  down  with  her,  and  laid  one, 
address  uppermost,  on  the  table  beside  her. 
It  was  addressed  to  "  Breckenridge  Calhoun, 
Esq.,  Richmond,  Virginia,  U.  S.  A." 

I  saw  Sir  Archibald's  eyes  rest  on  it  for  a 
second,  but  the  moment  he  realized  the  name 
he  almost  consciously  averted  his  glance  from 
the  envelope  for  the  remainder  of  the  meal. 

Virginia  was  very  lively. 

"  Well,  now,  Sir  Archibald,  I  'm  going  to 
hear  you  your  catechism  after  lunch  ;  it 's  a 
good  occupation  for  Sunday  afternoon,"  she 
said.  "  You  '11  come  right  into  the  coffee- 
room,  and  recite  it  to  me,  and  Miss  Evesham 
shall  correct  your  mistakes." 

"  I  '11  try  to  acquit  myself  well,"  he  an 
swered,  following  her  meekly  into  the  coffee- 
room. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  began. 

"  Archibald  George,"  he  replied,  and  Vir 
ginia  went  on :  — 

"  I  '11  invent  the  rest  of  the  questions,  I 


AT  THE  INN  107 

think,  so  please  answer  them  well.  How  old 
are  you  ?  " 

"  Thirty-one  years  and  two  months." 

"  Have  you  any  profession  ?  " 

"  None." 

"Pursuits?" 

"  Various/' 

"  Name  these." 

"  Motoring,  bicyling,  shooting,  fishing." 

"  That  will  do ;  you  may  sit  down,"  ob 
served  Virginia  gravely,  and  then,  turning 
to  me,  "  I  think  the  young  man  has  acquitted 
himself  very  creditably  in  this  difficult  exam. 
Miss  Evesham,  shall  we  give  him  a  certifi 
cate?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  laughing  at  her  non 
sense.  Virginia  wrote  out  on  a  sheet  of 
paper : — 

This  is  to  certify  that  Sir  Archibald 
Maxwell  Mackenzie  passed  a  creditable  ex 
amination  in  Pedigree  and  Pursuits. 

(Signed)     VIRGINIA  S.  POMEROYC 


108  THE  AFFAIR 

"  Here/'  she  said,  folding  it  up  and  giv 
ing  it  to  the  young  man,  "  you  should  keep 
this  among  the  proudest  archives  of  your 
house." 

Sir  Archibald  put  it  into  his  pocket  with 
a  funny  little  smile.  "  It  shall  have  the 
greatest  care,  always,"  he  assured  her.  "  And 
now,  Miss  Pomeroy,  won't  you  and  Miss 
Evesham  come  and  have  a  game  of  billiards 
with  me?  I  must  relax  my  mind  after  all 
this  effort." 

I  knew  that  I  should  not  consent  to  this 
proposition  ;  Virginia  knew  that  she  should 
not ;  we  both  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  Virginia,  with  a  glance  at  the  storm  out 
side,  made  a  compromise  in  favor  of  deco 
rum. 

"  Well,  there  does  n't  seem  to  be  much 
else  to  do  this  wet  afternoon,"  she  said.  "  I 
don't  care  if  I  do  come  and  see  how  well 
you  play,  Sir  Archibald,  and  perhaps  Miss 
Evesham  will  come  and  applaud  also." 

I   did  n't   see   much    difference    between 


AT  THE  INN  109 

playing  ourselves  and  seeing  him  play,  but 
perhaps  there  was  a  little. 

"  I  '11  fetch  my  banjo/'  proposed  Virginia, 
"  and  I  can  sing  while  you  have  your  game." 

So  to  the  billiard-room  we  went,  and  Vir 
ginia  perched  herself  in  a  window  niche. 
From  this  point  of  vantage  she  watched  Sir 
Archibald's  strokes,  while  she  strummed  away 
on  the  instrument,  and  sang  delicious  little 
songs  in  her  clear,  bird-like  voice.  I  watched 
them  both  closely.  Sir  Archibald  was  not 
attending  to  his  play ;  I  saw  that  he  was 
thinking  far  more  about  her. 

"  Won't  you  even  chalk  my  cue  for  me  ?  " 
he  asked  her,  holding  out  the  chalk. 

'  O 

She  received  it  daintily  between  her  finger 
and  thumb.  He  stood  beside  us,  looking 
down  at  her  in  the  unmistakable  way  ;  he 
was  falling  in  love,  but  he  scarcely  knew  it. 

66  There  's  your  nasty  chalk  !  See,  I  've 
whited  all  my  sleeve,"  she  said,  making  a 
distracting  little  grimace.  She  held  out  her 
sleeve  for  him  to  see,  and  of  course  he 


110  THE  AFFAIR 

brushed  the  chalk  gently  off  it,  and  looked 
into  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  I  almost  felt 
myself  in  the  way,  but  I  knew  that  I  was 
necessary  to  them  just  then.  They  had  not 
advanced  far  enough  in  their  flirtation  to  be 
left  alone  yet,  so  I  contented  myself.  They 
both,  I  thought,  were  taking  me  into  their 
confidence.  "  You  understand  —  you  won't 
betray  us —  we  mean  no  harm,"  they  seemed 
to  say  to  me;  and  I  determined  that  this 
should  be  my  attitude.  I  would  play  goose 
berry  obligingly  for  just  so  long  as  I  was 
wanted,  and  when  the  right  moment  came, 
would  equally  obligingly  leave  them. 

The  afternoon  went  merrily  on.  Sir  Archi 
bald  sent  for  a  whiskey  and  soda,  and  Vir 
ginia  fetched  a  huge  box  of  French  bon 
bons,  and  we  refreshed  ourselves  according  to 
our  tastes.  Virginia  had  just  slipped  a  very 
large  piece  of  nougat  into  her  mouth,  and  I 
was  just  going  to  put  a  bit  into  mine,  but 
happily  had  n't  done  so,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  came  walking  in, 


Copyright,  1904,  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 

THE   DOOR   OPENED.    AND   MRS.    M.\cGlLL   CAME    WALKING   IN 


AT  THE  INN  111 

with  an  air  of  angry  bewilderment  on  her 
face.  A  billiard  cue  to  her  means  nothing 
but  dissipation,  a  whiskey  and  soda  nothing 
short  of  sodden  drunkenness,  so  the  whole 
scene  appeared  to  her  a  sort  of  wild  orgy. 
If  she  had  only  known  how  innocent  it  all 
was  ! 

"  Cecilia,"  she  exclaimed,  "  the  waiter  told 
me  that  you  were  here,  but  I  could  scarcely 
believe  him !  " 

I  affected  not  to  see  that  she  was  shocked. 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  nearly  tea  time,"  I  said. 
"Shall  we  go  into  the  dining-room?" 

Mrs.  Mac  Gill  had  a  right  to  be  angry  with 
me,  but  I  do  not  think  any  indiscretion  could 
deserve  the  torrent  of  stupid  upbraiding  that 
fell  upon  me  now.  Many  of  her  reproaches 
were  deserved.  I  was  too  old  to  have  given 

o 

countenance  to  this  afternoon  in  the  billiard- 
room  ;  I  should  have  known  better. 

But  when  all  is  said  and  done,  life  is  short ; 
short,  and  for  most  of  us  disappointing. 
We  cannot  afford  to  put  a  bar  across  the 


112  THE  AFFAIK 

difficult  road  to  happiness.  I  saw  two  young 
creatures,  who  seemed  very  well  suited  to  each 
other,  in  need  of  my  friendly  countenance, 
and  I  determined  to  give  it.  Was  I  altogether 
wrong?  Well,  Mrs.  MacGill  thought  so  at 
any  rate,  and  told  me  so  with  wearisome 
iteration.  I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  took 
the  scolding  as  a  necessary  corrective  to  a 
very  happy  afternoon. 


AT  THE  INN  113 


M, 


Virginia  Poineroy 

GREY  TOR  INN 
Ax  THE  WORLD'S  EXD 

Monday,  May,  — 


.RS.  MAcGiLL,  inspired  by  the  zeal 
with  which  the  rest  are  re-reading  Hardy, 
Blackmore,  Baring-Gould,  and  Phillpotts, 
has  finished  a  book  of  each  of  these  novelists 
who  play  the  "  pipes  of  the  misty  moorlands." 
She  dislikes  them  all,  but  her  liveliest  dis 
approval  is  reserved  for  the  first  and  last 
named.  She  finds  them  most  immoral,  and 
says  that  if  she  could  have  believed  that 
such  ill-conducted  persons  resided  in  Dart 
moor  or  anywhere  in  Devonshire,  she  would 
not  have  encouraged  the  Grey  Tor  Inn  by 
her  presence.  As  to  the  language  spoken 
by  some  of  the  characters,  she  is  inclined 
to  think  no  one  could  ever  have  heard  it. 


114  THE  AFFAIR 

:i  There  would  be  no  sense  in  their  using 
such  words/'  she  explains  triumphantly, 
"  for  no  one  would  understand  them ;  "  con 
tinuing  the  argument  by  stating  that  she 
once  heard  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  open  a 
public  meeting,  and  he  spoke  in  exception 
ally  good  English, 

All  this  makes  me  rather  wicked,  so  when 
I  went  down  to  breakfast  to-day  I  said 
cheerfully,  "  Gude-marnin'  to  you !  Marnin', 
Mrs.  MacGill !  How  do  'e  like  my  new 
gown,  Cecilia  ?  -  -  it 's  flam-new  !  Marnin', 
Sir  Archibald !  I  did  n't  know  'e  in  the 
dimpsey  light ;  bide  wheer  you  be,  I  '11 
take  this  seat.  .  .  .  Will  I  have  bacon 
and  eggs  ?  Ess  fay ;  there  '11  be  nought 
else,  us  all  knows  that.  Theer  's  many  mat 
ters  I  want  to  put  afore  'e  to-day.  .  .  .  Do 
'e  see  thicky  li'l  piece  o'  bread  'pon  the 
plate,  Cecilia?  Pass  it  to  me,  will  'e?  I 
know  I  be  chitterin'  like  a  guinea-fowl,  but 
I  be  a  sort  o'  public  merryman  bringin' 
folks  the  blessing  o'  honest  laughter.  .  .  . 


AT  THE  INN  115 

Can  us  have  blind  up  if  't  is  all  the  same  to 
you,  Mrs.  MacGill  ?  I  doan't  like  eatin'  in 
the  dark." 

Then  when  mamma  said,  "  Jinny  /  "  in 
italics,  and  looked  at  me  beseechingly,  I  ex 
claimed,  "  Gaw  your  ways,  mother  !  I  ban't 
feared  o'  you,  an'  I  doan't  mind  tellin'  'e 
't  is  so."  When  Sir  Archibald,  bursting 
with  laughter,  remarked  it  was  a  fine  day,  I 
replied,  "  You  'm  right  theer  ;  did  'e  ever 
see  ought  like  un?  Theer  's  been  a  won- 
nerf  ul  change  in  the  weather  ;  us  be  called 
'pon  to  go  downlong  to  Widdington-in-the- 
Wolds  to-day  to  see  the  roundy-poundies. 

"  Along  by  the  river  we  '11  ram'le  about 
A-drowin'  th'  line  and  a-ketchin'  o'  trout ; 
An*  when  we  've  got  plenty  we  '11  start  ver  our  huomes 
An'  tull  all  our  doings  while  pickin'  ther  buones." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  MacGill,  thoroughly 
incensed,  remarked  that  there  was  no  ac 
counting  for  taste  in  jokes,  whereupon  I 
responded  genially,  "  You  'in  right  theer  ; 
it 's  a  wonnerful  coorious  rackety  world  ;  in 


116  THE  AFFAIR 

fact,  in  the  language  of  Eden,  '  I  '11  be 
gormed  if  it  ban't  a  'mazin  world !  " 

Mamma  at  this  juncture  said,  with  some 
heat,  that  if  this  were  the  language  of  Eden 
she  judged  it  was  after  the  advent  of  the 
serpent;  at  which  Sir  Archibald  and  Miss 
Evesham  and  I  screamed  with  laughter  and 
explained  that  I  meant  Eden  Phillpotts,  not 
the  Garden  of  Eden. 

The  day  was  heavenly,  as  I  said,  and 
seemed  intended  by  Providence  for  our  long 
deferred  picnic  to  Widdington-in-the-Wolds. 
Mamma  and  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  wanted  to  see  the 
church,  Cecilia  and  I  wanted  any  sort  of  an 
outing.  Sir  Archibald  had  not  viewed  the 
plan  with  any  warmth  from  the  first,  but 
I  was  determined  that  he  should  go,  for  I 
thought  he  needed  chastening.  Goodness 
knows  he  got  it,  and  for  that  matter  so  did 
I,  which  was  not  in  the  bargain. 

I  refuse  to  dwell  on  the  minor  incidents 
of  that  interminable  day.  Mrs.  MacGill,  for 
general  troublesomeness,  outdid  her  proudest 


AT  THE  INN  117 

previous  record ;  no  picnic  polluted  by  her 
presence  could  be  an  enjoyable  occasion,  but 
this  one  was  frowned  upon  by  all  the  Fates. 
There  is  a  Dartmoor  saying  that  God  looks 
arter  his  own  chosen  fules,  which  proves 
only  that  we  were  fules,  but  not  chosen 
ones.  The  luncheon  was  eaten  in  a  sort 
of  grassy  gutter,  the  only  place  the  party 
could  agree  upon.  It  was  begun  in  at 
tempted  jocularity  and  finished  in  uncon 
cealed  gloom.  Mrs.  MacGill,  on  perceiving 
that  we  were  eating  American  tongue,  de 
clined  it,  saying  she  had  no  confidence  in 
American  foods.  I  buried  my  face  in  my 
napkin  and  wept  ostentatiously.  She  be 
came  frightened  and  apologized,  whereupon 
I  said  I  would  willingly  concede  that  we 
were  not  always  poetic  and  were  sometimes 
too  rich,  but  that  when  it  came  to  tinning 
meats  it  was  cruel  to  deny  our  superiority. 
This  delightful  repast  over  and  its  remains 
packed  in  our  baskets,  we  sought  the  inn. 
Mrs.  MacGill  sank  upon  a  feather  bed  in 


118  THE  AFFAIR 

one  of  the  upstairs  rooms,  and  my  mother 
extended  herself  on  two  chairs  in  the  same 
apartment,  adding  to  my  depression  by  the 
remark  she  reserves  for  her  most  melancholy 
moments :  "  If  your  poor  father  had  lived, 
he  would  never  have  allowed  me  to  under 
take  this." 

I  did  n't  dare  face  Sir  Archibald  until  he 
had  digested  his  indigestible  meal,  so  Miss 
Evesham  and  I  went  for  a  walk.  Naturally 
it  rained  before  we  had  been  out  a  half  hour, 
and  unnaturally  we  met  Mr.Willoughby,  the 
artist,  again.  I  ran  back  to  the  inn  while 
they  took  shelter  under  a  sycamore.  I  said 
I  did  n't  want  my  dress  spoiled,  and  I  spoke 
the  truth,  but  I  did  also  want  to  give  Miss 
Evesham  the  tonic  of  male  society  and  con 
versation,  of  which  she  stands  in  abject  need. 
By  the  time  she  is  forty,  if  this  sort  of  con 
ventual  life  goes  on,  she  will  be  as  timorous 
as  the  lady  in  Captain  Marryatt's  novel  who, 
whenever  a  gentleman  shook  hands  with  her, 
felt  cold  chills  running  up  and  down  her  back. 


AT  THE  INN  119 

I  took  a  wrong  turning  and  arrived  at 
the  inn  soaked  as  to  outer  garments.  After 
a  minute  or  two  in  the  motor-shed  with  Sii 
Archibald,  I  had  a  fire  kindled  in  the  bed 
room  ;  but  before  I  could  fully  dry  myself 
they  were  clamouring  for  me  to  come  down 
and  add  my  cheerful  note  to  the  general 
cackle,  for  mamma  and  Mrs.  MacGill  had 
ordered  early  tea.  There  was  a  cosy  time  for 
a  few  minutes  when  Miss  Evesham  gaily 
toasted  bread  on  a  fork  and  Mr.  Willoughby 
buttered  it,  and  Sir  Archibald  opened  a 
quaint  instrument  in  a  corner  by  the  fire. 
I  struck  the  yellow  keys  of  the  thing  ab 
sently.  It  was  a  tiny  Broadwood  of  a  bygone 
century,  fashioned  like  a  writing-desk  with 
a  sort  of  bookcase  top  to  it.  I  tried  "  Loch 
Lomond  "  for  Mr.  Willoughby,  and  then,  as 
a  surprise  to  Cecilia,  sang  my  little  setting  of 
the  verses  she  gave  me  the  other  day.  The 
words  brought  tears  to  her  eyes,  and  Sir 
Archibald  came  closer.  "  More,  more  !  "  he 
pleaded,  but  I  said,  "I  don't  feel  a  bit  like 


120  THE  AFFAIR 

it,  Sir  Archibald  ;  if  you  '11  let  me  off  now 
I  '11  sing  nicely  for  you  when  they  've  gone." 
He  looked  unmistakably  pleased.  "  That 's 
good  of  you,"  he  whispered,  "  and  I  've  or 
dered  fresh  tea  made  after  the  mob  disperses." 

"Don't  forget  that  my  mother  is  one  of 
your  so-called  '  mob/  "  I  said  severely. 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean/'  he  re 
sponded  (he  always  blushes  when  he  is 
chaffed).  "I  get  on  famously  with  your 
mother,  but  three  or  four  women  in  a  little 
low-ceiled  room  like  this  always  look  like 
such  a  bunch,  you  know !  " 

Then  there  was  a  dreadful  interval  of 
planning,  in  which  Mrs.  MacGill,  who  ap 
peared  to  think  it  necessary  that  she  should 
be  returned  to  the  Grey  Tor  Inn  in  safety 
whatever  happened  to  anybody  else,  was 
finally  despatched  in  the  motor  with  mamma, 
Miss  Evesham,  and  Johnson ;  while  Sir  Ar 
chibald  and  I  confronted  with  such  courage 
as  we  might,  the  dismal  prospect  of  a  three 
hours'  tussle  with  Greytoria. 


AT  THE  INN  121 


Mrs.  MacGill 

THIS  has  been  a  terrible  day  of  fatigue  and 
discomfort.  I  was  a  woman  of  sixty  in  the 
morning,  but  I  felt  like  a  woman  of  eighty- 
six  by  night.  Danger,  especially  when  com 
bined  with  want  of  proper  food,  ages  one 
in  a  short  time.  My  sister  Isabella,  who 
knew  Baden  Powell,  declares  that  she  would 
scarcely  have  recognized  him  to  be  the  same 
man  after  as  before  the  siege  of  Mafeking, 
particularly  about  the  mouth. 

My  velvet  mantle,  after  all  it  has  suffered, 
will  never  be  as  good  again,  and  I  have 
reason  to  be  thankful  if  I  escape  a  severe 
illness  on  my  own  account  after  the  .mad 
rashness  of  this  day's  proceedings. 

The  young  people  (I  include  Cecilia, 
though  considerably  over  thirty)  had  been 
talking  a  great  deal  about  an  expedition  to 
a  distant  hamlet  called  Widdington-in-the- 


122  THE  AFFAIK 

Wolds.  Miss  Pomeroy  had,  of  course,  per 
suaded  that  misguided  young  man  to  take 
her  in  the  motor,  although  there  can  be  little 
conversation  of  a  tender  nature  in  a  machine 
that  makes  such  awful  noises ;  still  young 
people  now  can  doubtless  shout  anything. 
Poor  Mr.  MacGill  used  always  to  say  that 
he  could  scarcely  catch  my  replies. 

Cecilia  assured  me  that  it  was  a  short  drive, 
so  I  consented  to  allow  her  to  take  me  in  a 
pony  chaise.  Certainly  I  never  saw  a  quieter- 
looking  animal  than  that  pony  at  first  sight ; 
she  had,  indeed,  an  air  of  extreme  gentle 
ness.  People  say  that  is  frequently  combined 
with  great  strength  —  at  least  in  dogs,  and 
I  think  in  men  too ;  in  horses  it  does  not 
seem  to  be  the  case,  for  this  poor  animal  had 
a  very  dangerous  habit  of  putting  her  hind 
feet  together  and  sliding  down  a  descent. 
Several  times  at  small  declivities  she  seemed 
to  slide  forwards,  and  the  carriage  slid  after 
her,  so  that  I  thought  we  should  both  be 
thrown  out.  At  last,  having  driven  many 


AT  THE  INN  123 

miles,  meeting  several  droves  of  the  wild 
ponies,  which  happily  did  us  no  harm,  we 
came  to  the  top  of  a  quite  precipitous  hill, 
which  Cecilia  declared  we  must  descend 
before  we  could  arrive  at  Widdington. 

I  had  already  warned  her  that  I  felt  no 
confidence  in  her  driving,  but  she  is  sadly 
obstinate,  and  made  some  almost  impertinent 
retort,  so  we  began  to  descend  the  hill.  We 
had  gone  only  a  short  distance,  however, 
when  the  pony,  curiously  enough,  sat  down. 

"  Is  this  a  common  action  with  horses, 
Cecilia?"  I  gasped. 

Then  came  a  cracking  noise.  "  It 's  the 
shafts  breaking,  I  'm  afraid,"  she  said  quite 
coolly,  and  jumped  out.  I  got  out  too,  of 
course,  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  Cecilia  began 
to  undo  the  straps  of  the  animal's  harness. 
Again  I  felt  I  had  had  a  narrow  escape.  I 
am  not  able  now  for  these  nervous  shocks  — 
they  take  too  much  out  of  me.  I  had  been 
reading  some  of  those  alarming  books  about 
the  neighbourhood,  and  felt  I  should  be 


124  THE  AFFAIR 

quite  afraid  to  ask  for  assistance  from  any 
passer-by.  There  were  none,  as  we  had  seen 
nothing  but  ponies  since  we  left  Grey  Tor, 
but  in  several  books  the  violent  passions 
of  the  natives  had  been  described. 

Cecilia  said  that  she  would  lead  the 
animal,  so  we  started  to  go  down  the  long 
hill,  which  was  so  very  steep  I  thought 
I  should  never  reach  the  bottom.  Cecilia 
seemed  to  think  nothing  of  it.  "  You  can 
do  it  quite  well,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  she  said. 
"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  if  a  creature  with  four 
feet,  like  that  pony,  can  tumble  so,  how  do 
you  suppose  that  I,  on  two,  can  do  it  easily?" 
My  velvet  mantle,  though  warm,  is  very  heavy, 
and  my  right  knee  was  still  extremely  pain 
ful.  It  now  began  to  rain  a  little,  and  the 
sky  got  very  dark,  which,  I  remember,  the 
books  say  is  always  a  prelude  to  one  of 
those  terrific  storms  which  apparently  sweep 
across  Dartmoor  in  a  moment.  "  If  it  rains," 
I  said,  "  the  river  always  rises.  '  Dart  is  up/ 
as  they  say,  and  we  shall  never  reach  home 


AT  THE  INN 

alive."  Cecilia  declared  in  her  stupid  way  that 
we  were  nowhere  near  the  Dart.  "  Why  are 
we  on  Dartmoor,  then  ?  "  I  asked.  '•  I  have 
read  everywhere  that  the  river  runs  with 
appalling  velocity,  and  sweeps  on  in  an  angry 
torrent,  carrying  away  trees  and  houses  like 
straw ;  there  are  no  trees,  but  those  small 
houses  down  there  would  be  swept  away  in 
no  time.  If  we  can  only  get  down  to  the  vil 
lage,  and  get  something  to  eat,  and  a  carriage 
to  take  us  home  in,  I  shall  be  thankful  !  " 

Cecilia  appeared  uncertain  as  to  whether 
we  could  get  any  means  of  conveyance  at 
the  inn,  so  I  suggested  that  we  should  just 
walk  on.  "  Nothing,"  I  said,  "  shall  make  me 
try  to  go  back  with  that  animal.  Our  lives 
were  in  danger  when  she  sat  down.  I  am 
sure  that  they  must  have  a  quieter  horse  of 
some  kind,  in  such  a  lonely  place." 

Somehow  or  other  we  did  get  down, 
and  were  standing  by  the  wayside  when 
Sir  Archibald's  motor  drove  towards  us, 
seeming  to  have  descended  the  hills  in  per- 


126  THE  AFFAIR 

feet  safety.  Miss  Pomeroy,  of  course,  was 
on  the  box.  She  looked  rouged.  I  cannot 
be  quite  certain,  as  I  am  unaware  of  ever 
having  seen  any  one  whom  I  absolutely  knew 
to  be  addicted  to  the  habit,  but  Mr.  MacGill 
had  a  cousin  whom  he  used  to  speak  of  with 
considerable  asperity,  who  used  to  be  known 
as  "  the  damask  rose,"  and  that  was  because 
she  painted,  I  am  sure.  MissPomeroy's  cheeks 
were  startling.  Her  poor  mother  looked  like 
leather,  but  was  calm  enough,  in  the  back 
seat.  She  is  a  sensible  woman,  and  when  the 
young  people  (I  include  Cecilia  for  conve 
nience)  all  began  to  exclaim  in  their  silly  way 
about  Widdington,  calling  it  "  lovely  "  and 
"  picturesque  "  (I  must  say  that  Sir  Archi 
bald  had  too  much  good  sense  to  join  in 
this),  she  remarked  aside  to  me  with  a  quiet 
smile,  "  You  and  I,  Mrs.  MacGill,  are  too  old 
to  care  about  the  picturesque  upon  an  empty 
stomach."  To  stand  in  a  damp  church  with 
a  stiff  knee  is  even  worse,  as  I  told  Cecilia, 
when  she  had  insisted  on  dragging  me  into 


AT  THE  INN  127 

the  building,  which  smells  of  mildew.  The 
sacred  edifice  should  always,  I  hope,  suggest 
thoughts  of  death  to  all  of  us.  but  Miss 

O  ' 

Pomeroy  appeared  more  cheerful  than  usual, 
and  stood  talking  with  Cecilia  about  pillars 
till  I  was  chilled  through.  The  cold  is  more 
penetrating  in  these  old  churches  than  any 
where  else  —  I  suppose  because  so  many 
people  used  to  be  buried  there.  It  seems 
hideous  to  relate  that  on  coming  out,  we  sat 
down  to  lunch  in  a  ditch. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  is  so  infatuated  about  her 
daughter  that  she  would  do  anything  to 
please  her.  I  insisted  at  first  that  Cecilia 
was  to  accompany  me  into  the  inn,  but  Mrs. 
Pomeroy  gave  me  such  an  account  of  the 
scene  of  carousal  going  on  there  that,  rather 
than  sit  in  the  bar,  I  consented  to  eat  out 
of  doors. 

The  others  called  it  a  fine  day,  and  even 
spoke  of  enjoyment.  It  showed  good  sense 
on  the  part  of  our  cavalier  that  he,  at  least, 
never  made  any  pretence  of  enjoying  him- 


128  THE  AFFAIR 

self.  He  is  thoroughly  sick  of  that  girl,  but 
she  will  run  after  him.  It  makes  me  ashamed 
of  my  sex.  When  I  was  a  girl  I  always 
affected  not  to  see  Mr.  MacGill  until  he 
absolutely  spoke  to  me  ;  and  even  when  he 
had  made  me  a  distinct  offer  —  which  girls 
like  Virginia  Pomeroy  do  not  seem  to  con 
sider  necessary — I  appeared  to  hesitate,  and 
told  him  to  ask  papa.  Of  course  if  Mr. 
Pomeroy  is  dead  (and  her  mother  always 
wears  black,  though  not  the  full  costume 
—  she  may  be  only  divorced,  one  hears  such 
things  about  Americans),  why  then  one  can't 
expect  her  to  do  that,  but  I  very  much  doubt 
if  she  will  ever  consult  Mrs.  Pomeroy  for  a 
moment  —  that  is  to  say,  if  she  can  squeeze 
anything  at  all  like  a  proposal  from  Sir 
Archibald. 

I  have  tried  in  vain  to  put  the  young  man 
upon  his  guard.  Give  them  hair  and  com 
plexion,  and  they  are  deaf  adders  all;  yet 
what  is  that  compared  to  principle,  and  some 
notion  of  cooking !  Miss  Pomeroy  asks  for 


AT  THE  INN  129 

nothing  if  she  has  a  box  of  sweets ;  yet 
only  the  other  day  I  heard  her  confess  to 
eating  bread  and  cheese  in  an  inn,  along 
with  that  unfortunate  young  man,  who  prob 
ably  considered  it  a  proof  of  simplicity.  He 
is  sadly  mistaken.  Ten  courses  at  dinner  is 
the  ordinary  thing  in  New  York,  I  believe, 
one  of  them  canvas-back  ducks  upon  ice  ! 

By  three  o'clock,  when  this  horrid  meal 
was  over,  Mrs.  Pomeroy  and  I  were  both  so 
chilled  and  fatigued  that  I  sent  Cecilia  to 
entreat  that  the  woman  of  the  inn  would 
allow  us  to  rest  for  an  hour  in  a  room  where 
there  were  no  drunkards.  We  were  con 
ducted  to  a  small  bedchamber,  where  I  lay 
down  on  the  bed,  while  Mrs.  Pomeroy  had  a 
nap  upon  two  chairs.  Like  myself,  she  is 
always  troubled  by  a  tendency  to  breath- 
lessness  after  eating  —  and  even  lunch  in  a 
ditch  is  a  meal,  of  course.  She  also  talked 
a  little  about  her  daughter  in  perhaps  a  par 
donable  strain  for  a  mother,  who  can  scarcely 
be  expected  to  realize  what  the  girl  really  is. 


180  THE  AFFAIR 

A  Mr.  Calkoun  of  Richmond,  a  suburb 
of  New  York,  appears  to  have  paid  her 
some  attentions.  She  must  have  greatly  ex 
aggerated  them  to  her  mother,  for  Mrs. 
Pomeroy  evidently  believes  that  it  is  fully 
in  her  power  to  marry  the  young  man  if  she 
likes.  It  will  be  a  merciful  escape  for  Sir 
Archibald  for  a  while,  even  though  they  can 
be  divorced  so  easily  in  New  York. 


AT  THE  INN  131 


Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

I  KNEW  the  moment  I  opened  my  eyes  that 
morning  that  the  day  of  the  picnic  had  come. 
The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  the  birds  were 
singing.  Even  before  breakfast  there  were 
tourists  sitting  on  Grey  Tor  and  holding  on 
to  the  rails.  I  could  see  them  against  the 
sky.  When  we  were  all  at  breakfast,  even  the 
old  women  were  excited  about  the  picnic, 
and  as  to  Miss  Virginia,  there  was  no  hold 
ing  her  at  all.  She  pointed  out  that  she  had 
dressed  for  the  picnic  in  a  brand-new  frock 
especially  built  by  ono  of  the  smart  court 
dressmakers  for  such  occasions,  for  which  it 
was  about  as  well  suited  (I  pointed  out)  as  a 
ball-dress  would  have  been.  It  was  no  good 
my  saying  anything,  that  these  brilliant 
mornings  were  not  to  be  trusted,  that  the 
road  to  Widdin£ton-in-the- Wolds  was  the 

o 

worst  in  the  country,  that  there  was  nothing 


132  THE  AFFAIR 

to  do  or  see  when  you  got  there ;  I  was  over 
ruled  on  every  point,  and  all  the  arrange 
ments  were  made.  I  must  own  I  was  not  in 
a  good  temper  anyway.  A  man  has  his  ups 
and  downs ;  I  had  had  a  worrying  letter  from 
the  steward  at  Kindarroch.  My  tobacco  was 
done  and  the  fresh  packet  had  n't  arrived 
with  the  morning  post,  so  that  my  pouch 
was  filled  with  a  filthy  weed  from  the  hotel. 
Had  our  party  been  composed  of  only  Miss 
Virginia  and  her  mother,  it  would  not  have 
been  so  bad,  for  then  I  should  have  insisted 
on  giving  them  lunch  at  a  pothouse,  and  all 
the  horrors  of  an  al  fresco  entertainment 
would  have  been  avoided.  But  Mrs.  Mac  Gill 
and  her  companion  were  a  part  of  the  show, 
and  the  old  woman  actually  hinted  that  I 
was  to  drive  her  in  the  pony-shay,  while 
Johnson  conducted  the  rest  of  the  party  in 
the  motor !  I  showed  her  her  mistake  both 
clearly  and  promptly,  and  had  her  packed  off 
about  an  hour  before  we  started ;  except  for 
the  companion,  who  is  a  decent  sort  of  girl, 


AT  THE  INN  133 

I  could  have  wished  her  to  capsize  on  the 
way. 

We  got  off  in  the  motor  all  right  —  Miss 
Virginia  on  the  box  seat  with  me,  and  the 
mother  behind  with  Johnson.  The  going 
was  all  right  for  the  first  few  miles.  Virginia 
did  most  of  the  talking,  which  was  lucky, 
for  I  was  not  brilliant.  It  seems  odd  how  a 
fellow's  mood  can  be  stronger  than  circum 
stances.  Here  was  I,  on  a  lovely  day,  with  a 
pretty  girl  on  the  box  beside  me,  nothing 
so  very  much  as  yet  to  have  put  me  out, 
as  black  as  a  thundercloud.  Of  course  the 
idiocy  of  a  picnic  (on  which  I  have  dwelt 
before)  always  puts  my  back  up ;  I  did  n't 
want  to  come,  and  yet  on  this  occasion,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  I  could  not  stay  away. 
I  really  think  that  feeling  more  than  any 
thing  else  made  me  so  devilish  ill-tempered. 
I  had  soon  good  cause  enough  for  ill  temper, 
however.  The  road  was  all  right  at  first,  as 
I  said,  but  presently  it  gave  a  dip,  and  then 
without  the  slightest  warning  we  found  our- 


134  THE  AFFAIR 

selves  on  a  hill  as  steep  as  the  sides  of  a  well, 
and  about  as  comfortable  for  a  motor  as  the 
precipices  of  Mont  Blanc.  It  was  dangerous. 
I  hate  being  in  unnecessary  danger  myself  — 
it  is  silly ;  and  as  to  being  in  danger  with 
women  in  charge,  it  is  the  very  devil.  I 
jammed  on  the  brakes,  and  we  went  skidding 
and  scraping  down,  showers  of  grit  and 
gravel  being  thrown  up  in  our  faces,  the 
whole  machine  shaking  to  bits  with  the 
strain.  It  was  a  miracle  nothing  happened 
worse  than  the  loss  of  my  temper.  The  hill 
got  easier  after  about  a  mile.  Miss  Virginia, 
who  had  been  frightened  to  death  but  had 
kept  quiet  and  held  on  tight,  began  to 
laugh  and  talk  again ;  but  I  showed  pretty 
plainly  I  was  in  no  laughing  or  talking  mood. 
I  kept  a  grim  silence  and  looked  ahead.  I 
saw  her  turn  and  look  at  me,  once  or  twice, 
in  a  surprised  way,  and  then  she  suddenly 
became  quite  quiet  too.  In  this  significant 
silence,  we  drew  up  at  the  village  inn,  where 
Mrs.  MacGill  and  Miss  Evesham  had  already 
arrived. 


AT  THE  INN  135 

Guide-books  and  artists  talk  yards  about 
this  place,  Widdington-in-the-Wolds,  but  as 
usual  there  is  nothing  to  see  but  a  church, 
a  particularly  insanitary  churchyard,  a  few 
thatched  cottages,  two  or  three  big  sycamore 
trees,  and  an  inn,  so  very  small  as  to  be 
hardly  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 

We  found  the  Exeter  artist  here  before  us, 
and  I  walked  off  with  him  at  once,  leaving  the 
women  to  themselves.  Otherwise  I  should 
certainly  have  burst,  I  believe;  it  is  not 
healthy  to  refrain  from  bad  language  too 
long.  However,  all  the  agonies  of  picnic  had 
to  be  gone  through,  —  lunch  in  a  ditch,  cold, 
clammy  food,  forced  conversation,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  Certainly  that  picnic  was  a 
failure;  even  Miss  Virginia  was  subdued. 

'  O 

When  the  feeding  was  done,  I  went  off  with 
Willoughby,  the  artist,  again.  I  don't  know 
what  the  women  did  with  themselves,  I  am 
sure.  As  I  had  foretold,  the  weather  had 
changed;  there  had  been  one  cold  shower 
already,  and  the  clouds  were  piling  up  in  the 


136  THE  AFFAIR 

sky,  threatening  a  wet,  cold,  and  windy  after 
noon.  I  knew  how  it  would  be,  perfectly 
well,  before  we  started,  but  no  one  would 
heed  me. 


AT  THE  INN  137 


Cecilia  Evesham 

Tuesday  evening 

THIS  will  be  a  long  story  to  tell.  On  Mon 
day  morning  Mrs.  MacGill  was  very  lively, 
perhaps  wakened  up  by  the  explosion  of  the 
previous  night.  She  came  down  to  break 
fast,  and  was  persuaded  by  the  Pomeroys  to 
undertake  an  expedition  to  Widdington-in- 
the-Wolds,  an  outlying  hamlet  famous  for 
an  old  church. 

"  It  is  long  since  I  have  lunched  out  of 
doors,  Mrs.  Pomeroy,"  she  said,  "  but  the 
doctor  has  so  strongly  recommended  carriage 
exercise  and  fresh  air  to  me,  that  I  dare  say 
on  such  a  very  fine  morning  I  might  make 
the  attempt,  if  you  are  thinking  of  it." 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  had  been  made  to  think  of 
it  by  the  fair  Virginia,  as  I  well  knew ;  for 
the  expedition  was  to  be  carried  out  in  Sir 
Archibald's  motor. 

"  One  should  always  make  an  effort  to  see 


138  THE  AFFAIR 

all  places  of  interest  in  a  neighbourhood/' 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  observed,  with  the  sigh  of  the 
conscientious  American  sight-seer,  and  Mrs. 
MacGill  assented.  My  heart  sank.  Fancy 
visiting  places  of  interest  in  the  company 
of  Mrs.  MacGill !  But,  as  Browning  has  it, 
"  Never  the  hour  and  the  place  and  the  loved 
one  all  together  !  "  I  have  noticed  the  curi 
ous,  indomitable  tendency  of  tiresome  people 
to  collect  and  reappear  in  these  exquisite 
places  most  favoured  by  nature ;  more  suited, 
it  would  seem,  for  angel  visitants  than  for 
the  flat-footed  multitude,  but  I  digress. 

The  fact  remained  that  it  was  in  close 
company  with  Mrs.  MacGill  that  I  was  to 
visit  the  solitudes  of  Dartmoor,  —  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  in  a  bead-trimmed  mantle,  a  bonnet 
ornamented  with  purple  velvet  pansies,  and 
an  eis-wool  shawl  tied  round  her  throat. 

I  was  to  drive  her  in  the  pony  cart ;  even 
her  fears  were  not  aroused  by  the  dejected 
appearance  of  Greytoria  as  that  noble  ani 
mal  was  led  up  to  the  front  door. 


AT  THE  INN  139 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  the  horse  does  not 
look  spirited,"  she  said;  "for  though  you 
say  you  are  so  well  accustomed  to  driving,  I 
always  prefer  a  coachman." 

With  a  quick  twitch  of  the  reins  I  raised 
Greytoria's  drooping  nose  from  the  dust. 
She  seemed  surprised,  but  ambled  off  in  the 
indicated  direction. 

"  The  road  "  —  to  quote  Christina  Ros- 
setti  —  "  wound  uphill  all  the  way,"  and  a 
long  way  it  was.  We  crawled  along  at  about 
the  rate  of  a  mile  an  hour  over  that  rough 
and  stony  track.  The  lines  I  have  just 
quoted  haunted  my  memory  with  their  dismal 
significance  —  Life,  life  !  your  long  uphill 
road  has  little  promise  of  rest  for  me. 

We  toiled  on.  Then  the  summit  was 
gained  at  last,  and  down  below  us,  in  a  little 
nest-like  green  valley,  huddled  between  the 
swelling  brown  moors,  lay  Widdington-in- 
the  Wolds,  the  Mecca  of  our  pilgrimage. 

"  There  it  is  at  last !  "  I  cried.  "  See  the 
quaint  old  church  tower !  "  I  actually  ap- 


140  THE  AFFAIR 

pealed  to  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  for  sympathy,  so 
great  was  my  enthusiasm.  It  was  a  mis 
take. 

"  I  see  little  to  admire,  Cecilia/'  she  said, 
"  and  do  look  after  the  pony." 

Her  admonition  was  not  unnecessary.  In 
my  delight  I  had  risen  in  my  seat  and  let 
the  reins  slip  out  of  my  inattentive  fingers. 
Greytoria,  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  herself, 
had  begun  the  descent  of  the  terrifying  hill 
which  leads  down  to  Widdington.  Clapping 
her  heels  together  like  a  bowing  French 
man,  she  let  herself  slide  down  the  decline. 
I  realized  this  in  a  moment,  but  it  was  ra 
ther  too  late.  There  was  a  long,  scraping 
slither;  I  put  on  the  drag  hard,  and  tried 
to  hold  up  Greytoria's  head.  The  attempt 
was  vain ;  she  turned  round  and  looked  at 
me,  and  then,  without  making  any  farther 
effort,  quite  simply  sat  down  in  the  traces, 
the  chaise  resting  gracefully  on  her  back. 

Mrs.  Mac  Gill  cried  out  with  terror,  and, 
indeed,  I  felt  ready  to  do  the  same.  Not  a 


AT  THE  INN  141 

soul  was  anywhere  in  sight.  Only  far  down 
below  us,  at  the  foot  of  the  terrible  Wid- 
dington  hill,  could  help  be  procured. 

"  Oh,  Cecilia,  this  is  what  comes  of  trust 
ing  you  to  drive,"  cried  Mrs.  MacGill. 

This  stiffened  me  up  a  little,  and  I  deter 
mined  to  unharness  Greytoria. 

"  Come  and  sit  by  the  roadside,"  I  said. 
"  I  '11  get  her  unharnessed,  and  once  on 
her  legs  again  there  won't  be  any  harm 
done ;  it 's  not  as  if  she  had  broken  her 
knees." 

"  I  did  n't  know  that  horses  could  sit 
down,"  wailed  Mrs.  MacGill. 

"  Well,  it  is  an  uncommon  accomplish 
ment,"  I  admitted,  tugging  at  the  harness 
buckles. 

Greytoria  turned  a  mild  old  eye  upon 
me ;  she  seemed  accustomed  to  the  process 
of  being  unharnessed,  but  did  not  make 
any  attempt  to  rise. 

I  thought  as  I  tugged  at  that  buckle  that 
the  whole  thing  was  symbolical  of  life  for 


142  THE  AFFAIR 

me.  Was  n't  I  forever  tugging  at  obstinate 
buckles  of  one  sort  or  another  ?  I  dare  say 
such  morbid  thoughts  should  have  had  no 
place  in  my  fancy  at  a  moment  of  practical 
difficulty,  but  there  are  some  people  made 
in  this  way ;  their  thoughts  flow  on  in  an 
undercurrent  to  events.  So  I  tugged  away, 
and  my  thoughts  worked  on  also. 

It  was  no  easy  task,  this,  of  getting  Grey- 
toria  on  her  legs  again  ;  but  I  achieved  it  at 
last,  and  she  stood  up,  abject,  trembling, 
with  drooping  head  and  bowed  knees,  regard 
ing  the  hill  before  her. 

"  We  must  walk  down  to  the  inn,  I  'm 
afraid,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  I  said.  "  I  've  got 
Greytoria  into  the  chaise  again,  but  if  we 
add  our  weight  to  it,  she  will  just  sit  down 
a  second  time." 

"  Oh,  what  a  hill  to  go  down  on  foot !  " 
cried  Mrs.  MacGill,  but  she  saw  that  it  was 
inevitable,  so  we  began  the  long  descent,  I 
leading  Greytoria,  Mrs.  MacGill  trailing  be 
hind.  Down  below  us  the  green,  valley  smiledt 


AT  THE  INN  143 

and  beckoned  us  forward,  yet  like  every 
peaceful  oasis,  it  had  to  be  gained  with  toil 
and  difficulty.  As  we  plodded  down  that 
weary  hill,  shall  I  confess  that  my  thoughts 
turned  a  little  bitterly  to  Virginia's  side 
of  the  day's  pleasuring  ?  Why  should  she, 
young,  rich,  and  beautiful,  have  the  pleasant 
half  of  the  expedition,  —  a  ride  in  a  motor 
with  a  nice  young  man  who  was  falling  in 
love  with  her,  while  I  was  doomed  to  trail 
along  with  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  ?  Why  did  some 
women  get  everything  ?  Surely  I  needed 
amusement  and  relaxation  more  than  Vir 
ginia  did,  but  it  is  n't  those  who  need  relaxa 
tion  who  ever  get  it :  "  to  him  that  hath  shall 
be  given,"  as  the  Bible  cynically  and  truly 
observes. 

Every  few  yards  Mrs.  Mac  Gill  would  call 
out  to  me  to  stop  :  she  was  getting  too  tired ; 
it  was  so  cold  ;  the  road  was  so  rough.  But 
at  last  the  foot  of  the  hill  was  gained,  and 
with  a  sisrh  of  relief  she  bundled  into  the 

^ 

chaise  again.    She  had,  however,  no  eyes  for 


144  THE  AFFAIR 

the  interest  or  beauty  of  the  place  we  had 
reached  with  such  difficulty.  All  her  facul 
ties,  such  as  they  are,  were  concentrated  on 
wondering  where  and  when  we  would  get 
some  food.  As  we  passed  the  church,  she 
looked  the  other  way.  I  was  almost  glad.  I 
flicked  Greytoria,  her  flagging  pace  quick 
ened,  and  attempting  a  trot,  we  drove  up  to 
the  inn  door. 

"  I  suppose  we  must  wait  for  the  others," 
Mrs.  MacGill  sighed  peevishly,  "  but  really 
after  all  I  have  gone  through,  I  feel  much 
in  want  of  food." 

"  They  will  soon  be  here,"  I  said,  "  and 
on  the  way  home  Greytoria  will  go  better." 

"  Well,  as  she  goes  badly  up  hill,  and 
won't  go  down  at  all,  I  scarcely  see  how  we 
are  to  get  home  so  well,"  she  retorted,  with 
a  measure  of  truth. 

As  I  looked  at  the  hill  that  we  should 
need  to  reclimb  before  we  reached  home, 
my  heart  misgave  me  too ;  but  just  then 
the  motor  hove  in  sight,  a  scarlet  blot  at 


AT  THE  INN  145 

the  top  of  the  hill,  and  we  became  inter 
ested  in  watching  its  descent.  How  it  spun 
down  !  Almost  before  we  could  believe  it 
possible,  it  dashed  up  to  the  inn  door,  and 
Virginia  jumped  out.  She  was  in  exuberant 
spirits.  The  drive  had  been  just  lovely ; 
she  adored  Widdington  ;  the  hill  only  gave 
her  delicious  creeps  ;  she  was  n't  a  bit  tired 
or  cold. 

"  Yes.  "  thought  I,  "  it 's  easy  to  be  nei 
ther  cold  nor' tired  when  you  are  happy  and 
amused  and  young  and  rich  !  Try  to  drive 
with  Mrs.  MacGill  when  you  are  feeling  ill, 
and  can't  afford  to  buy  warm  clothes,  and 
see  how  you  like  it !  " 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  was  less  enthusiastic,  and 
Sir  Archibald  was  dumbly  regarding  the  tires 
of  the  motor,  which  had  suffered  strange 
things. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  as  he  glanced  up  at 
the  window  of  the  inn,  "  there  's  that  artist 
fellow  who  was  at  Exeter.  Suppose  he  's 
come  to  '  see  the  gorse.' ' 


146  THE  AFFAIR 

He  nodded  up  at  the  window,  took  out 
his  pipe,  and  began  to  fill  it,  directing  John 
son  to  take  the  luncheon  basket  out  of  the 
motor. 

Then  the  artist,  Mr.  Willoughby,  came 
sauntering  out  of  the  door.  I  dare  say  he 
had  had  enough  of  gorse  and  solitude,  for 
he  seemed  glad  to  greet  even  a  casual  ac 
quaintance  like  Sir  Archibald.  The  posi 
tion  of  being  the  one  man  in  a  party  of 
women  had  palled  upon  Sir  Archibald  only 
too  apparently,  for  he  met  Mr.  Willoughby 
with  —  for  him  —  quite  unwonted  geniality, 
and  they  strolled  off  together  down  the 
road.  Virginia  put  her  hand  through  my 
arm,  and  drew  me  in  the  direction  of  the 
church. 

"  We  're  not  going  on  very  well  this 
morning,  Cecilia,"  she  confided  to  me.  "  He  's 
so  Scotch,  Sir  Archibald  is,  what  they  call 
*  canny,'  and  I  've  made  him  very  cross  by 
dragging  him  off  on  this  expedition.  All 
the  tires  of  the  motor  are  cut,  and  he  hates 


AT  THE  INN  147 

eating  out  of  doors.  I  can  see  that  I  Jve 
vexed  him  to  madness." 

I  laughed,  and  so  did  she. 

"Why  did  you  make  him  do  it?"  I 
asked. 

"  I  wanted  to  put  him  to  some  sort  of 
test,"  she  replied.  "  Unless  a  man  will  do 
what  he  dislikes  for  you,  he  is  n't  worth 
much." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  are  going  to  play  with 
this  young  man's  affections,"  I  said  very 
severely,  for  her  tone  was  frivolous. 

"  Am  I  ?  "  she  murmured.   "  I  wonder  !  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  between 
us.  I  felt  all  manner  of  thrills  of  interest 
and  sympathy.  If  you  can't  be  happy  your 
self,  the  next  best  thing  is  to  see  other  peo 
ple  happy.  If,  as  I  now  suspected,  Virginia 
was  not  playing  with  Sir  Archibald's  affec 
tions,  then  I  was  eagerly  on  her  side.  Words 
are  not  necessarv,  however,  and  Virginia 

J  '  O 

must  have  divined  my  sympathy. 

We  had  reached  the  lich-gate,  and  there, 


148  THE  AFFAIR 

under  the  solemn  little  roof  that  had  shel 
tered  so  many  a  coffin  on  its  way  to  the 
grave,  Virginia  turned  and  gave  me  a  kiss. 
"  You  dear  !  "  she  said.  That  was  all. 


AT  THE  INN  149 

VI 
Virginia  Pomeroy 

GREY  TOR  INN 


H 


.ERE  beginneth  the  chronicle  of  the 
dreadfullest  drive  that  ever  was  driven.  I 
pitied  Sir  Archibald  with  my  whole  heart  to 
be  left  behind  with  Greytoria  and  me,  but 
what  else  could  be  done  ?  There  was  a  mist 
when  we  started  which  degenerated  after  a 

o 

bit  into  an  intermittent  drizzle,  and  at  inter 
vals  the  wind  blew  a  young  tornado.  The 
road  was  dreary,  but  fascinating  in  its  broad 
stretches  of  loneliness.  We  passed  green 
field  and  brown  moor  in  turn,  with  all  the 
trees  looking  grey  in  the  mist,  and  here  and 
there  the  brawling  of  a  stream  to  break  the 
silence.  Sometimes  there  was  a  woodman 
working  in  a  roadside  copse,  sometimes  a 
goggled  stone-breaker  pursuing  his  monoto- 


150  THE  AFFAIR 

nous  task,  sometimes  a  carrier  bending  be 
neath  his  weight  of  fagots.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  the  flaming  gorse  and  the  groups 
of  red  cattle,  there  would  have  been  no  colour 
in  the  landscape.  My  spirits  kept  their  nor 
mal  height  for  the  first  six  or  eight  miles, 
but  they  sank  little  by  little  as  the  hills  grew 
in  number  and  increased  in  height.  Sir 
Archibald  refused  to  let  me  walk,  and  it 
made  me  wretched  to  see  him  stalking  be 
side  the  pony  chaise,  appealing  to  Greytoria's 
pride,  courage,  conscience,  ambition,  and 
sense  of  decency,  in  turn,  and  mostly  without 
avail.  We  kept  the  best-travelled  road,  but  it 
seemed  to  lead  us  farther  and  farther  from 
Grey  Tor,  which  had  quite  disappeared  from 
the  horizon  and  could  not  be  used  as  a  land 
mark.  There  could  be  no  conversation  either 
going  up  or  down  hill,  as  Sir  Archibald  was 
too  breathless  and  busy.  I,  sitting  in  state, 
punctuated  the  ascents  and  descents,  as  long 
as  I  had  strength,  with  agreeable  persiflage 
something  in  this  wise :  - 


AT  THE  INN  151 

"  The  guide-book  says,  '  Pedestrianism  is 
doubtless  the  ideal  manner  of  touring  in 
Devonshire.  Only  on  foot  is  it  possible  to 
view  the  more  romantic  scenery.  Motors  are 
not  advised  and  bicycles  discouraged.' ' 

Sir  Archibald  would  smile,  say  something 
under  his  breath,  and  whack  Greytoria. 

"  Sir  Archibald,  there  is  a  place  in  these 
parts  where  the  devil  is  said  to  have  died  of 
cold  ;  it  must  be  just  here." 

"  Sir  Archibald,  do  'e  kuaw  I  think  we  'm 
pixy-led?  When  Devonshire  folk  miss  the 
path  home  at  night  and  go  astray,  they  'm 
'pixy-led.'" 

If  we  two  poor  wayfarers  could  have  sat 
quietly  beside  each  other  and  chatted  in  ?e 
dimpsey  light,  it  would  not  have  been  a  bit 
bad,  but  there  was  something  eternally  doing. 
When  the  drag  was  n't  being  put  on  or  off, 
the  whip  was  being  agitated,  or  Sir  Archi 
bald  was  looking  for  a  house  to  ask  the  way. 
Never  was  there  such  a  route  from  one  spot 
to  another  as  the  one  we  took  from  Wid- 


152  THE  AFFAIR 

dington-in-the- Wolds  to  the  Grey  Tor  Inn. 
If  it  was  seven  miles  as  the  swallow  flies,  it 
was  twenty-seven  as  Greytoria  flew.  The  din 
ner  hour  passed,  and  the  luncheon  baskets, 
with  all  other  luggage,  were  in  the  motor. 
Sir  Archibald's  last  information,  obtained 
from  an  unintelligible  boy  driving  a  cow, 
was  to  the  effect  that  we  were  only  two 
miles  from  home. 

"  She  may  manage  it  and  she  may  not," 
said  my  squire,  looking  savagely  at  Greytoria. 
"  If  I  only  knew  whether  she  can't  or  she 
won't,  I  should  deal  with  her  differently." 

The  rain  now  came  down  in  earnest.  Part 
of  my  mind  was  forever  toiling  up  or  creep 
ing  down  a  hill  with  the  pony,  and  another 
part  was  spent  in  keeping  my  umbrella  away 
from  Sir  Archibald's  hat,  on  those  rare  oc 
casions  when  he  was  by  my  side.  A  woman 
may  have  the  charms  of  Cleopatra  or  Helen 
of  Troy,  but  if  she  cannot  keep  her  parasol 
or  umbrella  away  from  a  man's  hat,  her 
doom  is  sealed. 


AT  THE  INN  153 

How  I  hate  this  British  climate !  How  I 
hate  to  wear  always  and  always  stout  shoes, 
sensible  clothes,  serviceable  hats,  short  skirts, 
looking  like  a  frump  in  the  intervals  of  sun 
shine,  that  I  may  be  properly  attired  when  it 
rains !  I  shed  a  few  secret  tears  now  and  then 
for  sheer  down-heartedness  and  discourage 
ment.  I  was  desperately  cold,  and  my  wetting 
had  given  me  a  feverish,  teeth-chattering 
sort  of  feeling.  Hungry  I  was,  too,  and  in 
such  a  rage  with  the  beastly  pony  that  I 
wished  she  had  been  eaten  in  the  French 
Revolution  ;  she  was  too  old  to  be  tender, 
even  then. 

Now  ensued  a  brief,  all  too  brief,  season 
of  content  on  a  fairly  level  bit  of  road.  It 
was  not  over  an  eighth  of  a  mile  in  length, 
and  must  have  been  an  accident  on  the  part 
of  Nature.  I  was  so  numb  and  so  sleepy 
that  I  just  heard  Sir  Archibald's  sigh  of  grati 
tude  as  he  took  his  seat  for  a  moment  beside 
me,  and  then  I  subsided  into  a  semi-comatose 
state,  too  tired  to  make  even  one  more  ex- 


154  THE  AFFAIR 

piring  effort  to  be  agreeable.  I  am  not  clear 
as  to  the  next  few  moments,  in  which  I  felt 
a  sudden  sense  of  warmth  and  well-being 
and  companionship.  I  must  have  dropped 
off  into  a  sort  of  dream,  and  in  the  dream 
I  felt  the  merest  touch,  just  the  brush  of 
something  on  my  cheek,  or  I  thought  I  did. 
Slight  as  it  was  there  was  something  unac 
customed  about  it  that  made  me  come  hastily 
into  the  conscious  world,  and  my  waking 
was  made  the  more  speedy  by  a  sudden  stir 
and  noise  and  ejaculation.  We  had  come  to 
another  hill,  and  Sir  Archibald  had  evidently 
wished  for  once  to  omit  the  walking-up  pro 
cess.  Greytoria,  outraged  in  her  deepest  sen 
sibilities  by  the  unwonted  addition  of  Sir 
Archibald's  weight  to  her  burdens,  braced 
her  hind  legs  firmly  and  proceeded  to  achieve 
the  impossible  by  slithering  backward  down 
the  hill.  Sir  Archibald  leaped  out  on  the 
one  side ;  I  put  the  drag  on,  or  off,  which 
ever  is  wrong,  and  leaped  out  on  the  other. 
He  adjusted  the  drag  and  gave  Greytoria 


AT  THE  INN  155 

a  clip  that  she  will  describe  to  her  grand 
children  on  future  winter  evenings.  I,  with 
matchless  presence  of  mind,  got  behind  the 
pony  chaise  and  put  my  shoulder  under  the 
back  to  break  its  descent.  And  so  we  wound 
wearily  up  the  hill,  and  on  reaching  the  top, 
saw  the  lighted  hotel  just  ahead  of  us. 

In  silence  we  traversed  the  few  remaining 
yards,  each  busy  with  his  own  thought.  Si 
lently  we  entered  the  gate  and  gave  Grey- 
toria  to  the  waiting  groom.  Silently  and 
stiffly  I  alighted  from  the  chaise,  helped  by 
Sir  Archibald's  supporting  arm.  He  held  my 
hand  a  second  longer  than  was  necessary  ; 
held  it,  half  dropped  it,  and  held  it  again ; 
or  did  something  unusual  with  it  that  was 
widely  separated  from  an  ordinary  good 
night  "  shake." 

There  was  no  harm  in  that,  for  the  most 
unsentimental  man  feels  a  sort  of  brotherly 
sympathy  for  a  damp,  cold,  hungry,  tired, 
nice  girl. 

But  about  that  other  —  episode?  ...  Of 


156  THE  AFFAIR 

course  if  he  did,  I  should  resent  it  bitterly ; 
but  if  it  were  only  a  dream  I  must  not  blame 
him  even  in  thought.  .  .  .  There  is  always 
the  risk  that  a  man  might  misunderstand  the 
frank  good-fellowship  in  which  we  Ameri 
can  girls  are  brought  up,  and  fail  to  real 
ize  that  with  all  our  nonsense  we  draw  the 
line  just  as  heavily,  and  in  precisely  the 
same  place  as  our  British  cousins.  .  .  .  But 
why  do  I  think  about  it  any  more  ?  ...  It 
would  n't  be  a  bit  like  him,  so  probably  he 
did  n't.  ...  In  fact  it  is  so  entirely  out 
of  character  that  he  simply  could  n't.  .  .  . 
And  yet  I  suppose  the  number  of  men  who 
actually  could  n't,  is  comparatively  small. 


AT  THE  INN  157 


Mrs.  MacGill 

WELL,  we  spent  the  day  till  five  o'clock  in 
that  dreary  spot,  cold  and  wretched.  Then 
Sir  Archibald  proposed  that  I  should  go 
home  with  Mrs.  Pomeroy  in  the  motor ;  they 
gaid  we  should  get  there  quicker  that  way  ! 
He  meant  to  drive  Miss  Pomeroy  in  the 
pony  chaise,  not  being  at  all  afraid,  he  said, 
of  any  pony,  however  spirited.  Of  course 
nothing  would  induce  me  to  enter  a  pony 
carriage  drawn  by  that  animal  again.  A 
motor  is  more  dangerous  in  some  ways,  but 
at  any  rate  it  cannot  sit  down  like  that 
pony,  and  they  all  assured  us  that  it  was 
both  safe  and  speedy.  Mrs.  Pomeroy  had 
been  quite  at  ease  in  it,  she  said,  so  at  last 
I  consented  to  go.  Cecilia  tied  on  my  bon 
net  with  my  grey  wool  shawl,  and  we  set  out. 
It  surprises  me  that  motoring  should  have 
become  a  favourite  pastime  with  so-called 


158  THE  AFFAIR 

fashionable  people,  for  certainly  one  does 
not  appear  to  advantage  in  motoring  gar 
ments.  The  cold  was  intense,  and  at  first 
everything  whizzed  past  me  at  such  a  rate 
that  I  could  remember  nothing  except  two 
lines  that  Cecilia  read  to  me  last  evening, 
about  "  the  void  car  hurled  abroad  by  rein 
less  steeds." 

There  were  no  steeds,  of  course,  nor  reins, 
and  the  car  was  not  void,  but  that  was  quite 
the  motion.  My  bonnet,  in  spite  of  the 
shawl  and  string,  was  instantly  torn  from  my 
head.  I  begged  Johnson,  a  very  civil  Scotch 
man  who  could  understand  what  I  said,  to 
stop  the  machine  for  a  few  moments  and  let 
me  breathe.  Cecilia  advised  me  to  remove 
the  bonnet  and  trust  wholly  to  the  shawl. 
My  hair  is  not  thick,  especially  on  the  top, 
and  I  soon  had  all  the  sensation  of  the  head 
being  padded  in  ice,  which  we  read  of  as  a 
treatment  for  brain  fever. 

It  was  now  beginning  to  get  dark.  John 
son  drew  up  suddenly,  and  declared  that  he 


AT  THE  INN  159 

must  have  taken  the  wrong  road.  There  were 
no  sign-posts  anywhere,  and  it  had  begun 
to  rain  heavily.  We  were  standing  just  at 
the  foot  of  a  steep  hill  where  the  road  lay 
through  a  thick  wood.  Above  us  was  a 
tower  of  rock,  —  another  "tor,"  I  suppose, 
if  not  a  "monolith." 

Johnson  proposed  to  drive  the  machine 
on  into  the  wood,  and  leave  us  under  shel 
ter  whilst  he  went  to  a  cottage  that  we  saw 

o 

farther  up,  to  inquire  about  the  road.  This 
I  decidedly  objected  to.  Mrs.  Pomeroy  and 
Cecilia  seemed  to  think  me  foolish,  and  could 
not  understand  my  being  afraid. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  I  have  good  reason  to 
refuse  to  enter  that  wood.  Indeed  it  will 
not  be  safe  for  Johnson  to  leave  us  there 
alone  :  I  recognize  the  place  perfectly.  In 
one  of  the  books  by  that  Mr.  Phillpotts, 
who,  you  have  all  told  me,  is  most  accurate 
in  his  descriptions,  I  read  about  this  place, 
and  he  said,  '  The  Wolf  suckled  her  young 
there  yesterday/  Yes,  Cecilia,  laugh  if  you 


160  THE  AFFAIR 

like ;  those  were  the  very  words,  and  I  ex 
amined  the  date  of  the  publication,  which 
was  not  a  year  ago.  Yesterday  was  the 
word  used." 

"  Then  the  cubs  will  still  be  too  small  to 
attack  us,"  observed  Cecilia,  who  has  no 
tact  and  is  constantly  trying  to  be  facetious 
when  she  should  be  endeavouring  to  allay 
my  nervous  terrors. 

"He  would  be  meaning  foxes,  ma'am,"  said 
Johnson,  who  had  been  listening  whilst  fright 
compelled  me  to  quote  the  exact  expres 
sion  I  had  read. 

"  It  is  possible  that  he  meant  foxes,  John 
son,"  allowed  I,  "  but  three  ladies  alone  in 
a  motor,  in  the  dark,  attacked  even  by  wild 
foxes,  would  be  in  some  danger ;  so  I  hope 
that  you  will  drive  on  directly,  and  get  us 
out  of  this  horrid  place  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble." 

They  tried  to  smooth  over  the  situation, 
but  I  would  listen  to  none  of  them,  and  John 
son  at  last  drove  on.  Halfway  up  the  hill 


AT  THE  INN  161 

the  motor  stuck.  Something  had  gone  wrong 
with  it  inside,  and  I  felt  that  we  might  stay 
there  in  the  wilderness  all  night,  which  would 
have  been  impossible,  as  I  had  taken  very 
few  remedies  of  any  kind  with  me,  and  can 
not  sleep  sitting  up.  These  stoppages  oc 
curred  several  times.  How  we  at  length  got 
home  I  scarcely  remember.  My  velvet  man 
tle  was  like  a  sponge,  my  feet  so  cold  that 
it  was  all  I  could  do  to  dismount  from  the 
motor  when  it  ground  up  to  the  hotel  door. 
There  was  Sir  Archibald  standing  smoking 
as  if  nothing  extraordinary  had  occurred. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  he  cried,  "  you  are 
even  later  than  we  were,  and  I  thought 
that  blessed  pony  was  going  to  her  own  fu 
neral." 

I  thought  that  in  spite  of  his  tone  he 
looked  rather  pale  and  agitated ;  he  was  of 
course  anxious,  and  rightly  so,  about  my 
safety. 

"  Sir  Archibald,"  I  said,  as  soon  as  I 
could  speak,  "I  trust  that  I  never  again 


162  THE  AFFAIK 

may  have  to  enter  one  of  those  motors. 
Human  life,  especially  mine,  is  too  precious 
to  be  thrown  away  in  such  a  fashion.  An 
other  half  hour  of  it  would  have  killed  me 
outright.  Had  Mr.  MacGill  been  alive  he 
would  never  have  consented  to  my  going 
into  it  for  a  moment.  As  it  is,  I  can  scarcely 
hear  or  see  owing  to  the  frightful  noises  and 
the  rain  lashing  on  my  face  ;  every  hair  on 
my  head  feels  pulled  the  wrong  way,  and 
I  'm  sure  I  shall  have  another  bad  relapse 
of  influenza  by  to-morrow  morning.  Your 
uncle  was  a  friend  of  my  poor  brother-in-law 
who  died  at  Agra  in  a  moment,  and  unless 
you  take  a  warning  you  will  have  an  end 
quite  as  sudden  and  much  more  frightful, 
for  his  was  heart  complaint,  and  you  will  be 
smashed  to  pieces  by  the  wheels  of  that  hid 
eous  machine." 

I  left  them  downstairs  and  went  to  bed. 
Cecilia  tried  to  make  me  believe  there  was 
nothing  wrong  with  me,  as  she  always  does 
when  she  has  neuralgia,  or  says  she  has  neu- 


AT  THE  INN  163 

ralgia,  herself,  but  I  know  that  there  is. 
What  is  the  matter  I  can't  exactly  say,  only 
I  am  certain  that  I  am  going  to  suffer  in  some 
way  from  this  horrible  expedition. 


164  THE   AFFAIR 


Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

THERE  is  something  soothing  even  in  hotel 
tobacco,  I  suppose,  so  I  was  better,  though 
still  feeling  decidedly  blue,  later  in  the  day  at 
Widdington,  when  I  came  up  to  the  inn  door 
and  began  overhauling  the  motor  as  it  stood 
in  the  yard.  There  was  nothing  particularly 
cheering  in  finding  several  long  cuts  in  the 
tires,  and  I  was  probing  them  to  get  the  grit 
out,  when  I  heard  a  little  cough  behind  me. 
I  turned  to  see  Miss  Virginia  standing  in 
the  doorway,  looking  at  me  rather  doubt 
fully.  Now  of  course  I  had  been  rather  short, 
not  to  say  nasty,  but  somehow  it's  a  fact 
that  you  cannot  be  sharp  with  a  woman  with 
out  at  once  being  put  in  the  wrong,  though 
she  may  really  have  been  the  sinner  all 
the  time.  It  was  Miss  Virginia  who  had 
brought  me  out  on  this  show,  who  had  cost 
ine  about  forty  pounds  in  tires,  and  heaven 
knows  how  much  in  other  ways,  but  it  was 


AT  THE  INN  165 

I  who  felt  a  beast  now.  Yet  she  looked  at  me 
in  a  way  which  seemed  to  say  she  was  sorry 
I  was  vexed.  She  was  rubbing  her  hands  to 
gether  and  shivering  a  little.  Of  course  she 
was  cold  in  that  ridiculous  dress. 

"  A  nice  day  it  has  turned  out,  has  n't  it?" 
I  said  rather  spitefully. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  never,  never  ask  for  a  picnic 
again  !  "  cried  she,  with  a  comical  look.  She 

o 

came  and  began  to  look  at  the  cuts  in  the 

o 

tires  herself. 

"  Oh,  they  are  bad,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and 
I  suppose  you  love  that  old  motor  better 
than  anything  on  earth,  don't  you?"  she 
inquired. 

"  I  get  a  good  deal  more  pleasure  out  of 
it,"  I  truthfully  replied,  u  than  I  do  out  of 
the  society  of  most  human  beings."  She 
gave  a  little  laugh. 

"I  expect  I  had  better  go  inside  after 
that  !  "  she  said,  and  of  course  I  felt  rathei 
a  brute.  I  had  n't  really  meant  to  be  rude 
or  send  her  away.  I  hunted  under  the  tar- 


166  THE  AFFAIR 

paulin  that  covered  the  motor  for  my  fur- 
lined  coat,  and  then  I  followed  her  into  the 
inn. 

"Look  here/'  I  said,  "better  put  this 
on  ;  you  're  horribly  cold."  She  seemed  half 
inclined  to  refuse,  but  finally  let  me  put  the 
coat  over  her  shoulders  and  run  her  arms 
into  the  sleeves. 

"  You  're  pretty  damp/'  I  observed. 

"  'Deed  I  am !  "  she  shivered.  "  Miss  Eve- 
sham  and  I  went  for  a  walk  and  got  caught  in 
the  rain  as  usual.  My  hair  's  all  wet  too  !  " 

"  Better  dry  it/'  I  suggested. 

She  ran  off  to  some  room  or  other,  and 
when  she  reappeared  she  had  two  plaits  of 
dark  hair,  as  thick  as  bellropes,  hanging 
down  her  back.  With  that  and  my  motor 
coat,  Miss  Virginia  cut  a  pretty  queer  fig 
ure.  I  cannot  say  she  looked  plain,  however ; 
her  spirits  had  come  back,  and  so  had  mine, 
strange  to  say,  for  the  day  was  far  from 
finished. 

There  was  a  parlour  in  the  inn,  so  low  in 


Copyright.  19«M,  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co.  \       j    >   ',» 

I   CANNOT   SAY   SHE   LOOKED   PLAIN.    HdWEVER 


AT  THE  INN  167 

the  ceiling  that  I  could  not  stand  up  straight 
in  it,  and  was  forever  knocking  my  head 
against  the  rafters.  When  we  went  in,  this 
place  was  as  full  of  women  as  it  could  hold, 
all  fighting  like  cats,  —  Mrs.  MacGill,  Mrs. 
Pomeroy,  Miss  Evesham,  —  and  all  wonder 
ing  how  they  were  to  get  home.  The  place 
was  simply  steaming  with  tea. 

Mrs.  MacGill,  it  appeared,  utterly  refused 
to  go  home  in  the  pony  trap  unless  it  were 
driven  by  me.  Needless  to  say  I  declined 
this  honour  with  a  firmness  equal  to  hers. 
Finally  it  was  arranged,  chiefly  by  Miss 
Evesham's  management,  that  the  two  old 
ladies  and  herself  were  to  go  home  in  the 
motor  with  Johnson,  while  Miss  Virginia 
and  I  negotiated  the  pony  and  trap.  This 
was  pretty  thick,  considering  I  had  refused 
point-blank  to  drive  Mrs.  MacGill,  but  Miss 
Evesham  seemed  to  make  it  sound  all  right, 
—  clever  sort  of  young  woman  in  her  way. 
As  the  weather  threatened  to  get  worse  im 
mediately,  the  motor  party  was  packed  off 


168  THE  AFFAIR 

without  loss  of  time,  and  Miss  Virginia  and 
I  had  a  comfortable  tea  by  ourselves  before 
starting  for  home. 

It  was  not  late  in  the  afternoon,  but  the 
little  inn  parlour  was  almost  dark,  chiefly 
because  the  church  tower  overshadowed  the 
house,  and  the  window  was  so  small.  Pres 
ently  the  bells  began  ringing  (it  was  a  saint's 
day,  Miss  Virginia  said),  and  my  word,  what 
a  din  they  made  !  The  whole  house  shook 
and  the  very  teacups  rattled.  Miss  Virginia 
seemed  to  like  it,  however,  and  sat  listening 
with  her  chin  on  her  hand.  She  had  been 
strumming  on  an  old  spinet  sort  of  thing  that 
stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  I  asked 
her  if  she  would  sing  a  little  before  we  set 
off. 

"  I  will/'  said  she,  "  if  you  '11  smoke  a  lit 
tle,"  an  invitation  I  accepted  with  alacrity. 

"  You  deserve  something,"  she  remarked, 
"  to  make  up  for  the  wretched  time  you  '  ve 
been  having  to-day.  It  was  partly  my  fault. 
I  am  sorry." 


AT  THE  IXN  169 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it !  "  was  all  I  could 
say,  of  course,  and  Miss  Virginia  began  to 
sing  before  I  could  speak  anotber  word. 

Tbere  is  a  tremendous  cbarm  in  ber  sing 
ing  :  ber  style  is  so  simple  ;  ber  voice  is  so 
fresb  ;  you  can  bear  every  word  sbe  says,  and 
sbe  always  sings  tbe  right  songs.  How  this 
sort  of  singing  makes  a  man  think !  I  can't 
describe  tbe  effect  it  has  upon  me.  As  Miss 
Virginia  touched  the  tinny,  stringy  old  notes 
and  went  from  song  to  song,  —  now  an  Irish 
melody,  now  a  nigger  one,  now  an  English 
ballad, — I  forgot  all  about  tbe  day's  worries  ; 
I  forgot  the  motor  and  the  cut  tires  and  the 

o 

bad  weather  and  the  beastly  picnic  —  it  was 
a  kind  of  Heaven.  If  I  marry,  it  must  be 
some  one  who  can  sing  bke  this.  I  have  been 

o 

changing  my  preferences  for  blonde  women 
lately.  No  doubt  they  look  very  nice  when 
young,  but  they  don't  wear  well,  I  feel  sure, 
and  get  purple  and  chilblaiuy  in  cold  weather. 
Of  course  the  dark  ones  are  apt  to  turn 
drab  and  mottled,  but  not  when  they  have  as 


170  THE  AFFAIR 

much  colour  as  Miss  Virginia.  All  sorts  of 
scraps  of  thoughts  and  ideas  chased  each 
other  through  my  mind  as  she  sang.  She  had 
got  on  to  a  thing  she  had  sung  in  the  hotel 
several  times,  —  a  plantation  Christmas  carol 
she  called  it,  the  sort  of  thing  you  cannot 
forget  once  you  have  heard  it,  either  the 
words  or  the  music. 

Oh,  dat  star  's  still  shinin'  dis  Chrisinus  Day, 

Rise,  O  sinner,  and  foller  ! 
Wid  an  eye  o'  faith  you  c'n  see  its  ray, 
Rise,  O  sinner,  and  foller  ! 
Leave  yo'  fader, 
Leave  yo'  mudder, 
Leave  yo'  sister, 
Leave  yo'  brudder, 
An'  rise,  O  sinner,  and  foller  ! 

And  there  was  a  bit  about  a  shepherd  too :  — 

Leave  yo'  sheep,  an' 
Leave  yo'  lamb,  an' 
Leave  yo'  ewe,  an* 
Leave  yo'  ram,  an' 
Rise  up,  shepherd,  and  foller  ! 

I  asked  her  to  sing  it  over  again.  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  time  and  the  drive 


AT  THE  INN  171 

home  and  the  beastly  weather.  Luckily  I 
happened  to  look  at  my  watch.  It  was 
nearly  six  o'clock  1 

"  We  've  got  to  look  sharp/'  I  said,  "  if  we 
want  any  dinner  at  the  hotel." 

Look  sharp,  indeed  !  The  woman  at  the 
inn  must  have  been  inad  or  drunk  when  she 
told  us  that  the  low  road  home  was  only  two 
miles  longer  than  the  way  we  came.  We 
may  have  missed  the  right  turning,  for  Miss 
Virginia  was  talking  and  laughing  at  such  a 

o  o  O  O 

rate  when  we  began  the  drive,  that  I  con 
fess  I  had  n't  much  attention  to  spare.  We 
gradually  emerged  from  the  valley  where 
the  village  lay  and  were  soon  on  the  open 
moor  and  fairly  lost  on  it  before  you  could 
say  Jack  Robinson. 

I  never  saw  such  a  dismal,  howling,  God 
forsaken  country,  without  a  house  or  a  hut 
or  so  much  as  a  heap  of  stones  to  mark  the 
way, — a  wilderness  of  stubby  heath  and 
endless,  endless  roads,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  in  a  way  that  is  simply  maddening  and 


172  THE  AFFAIR 

perfectly  senseless,  for  they  lead  to  nowhere. 
We  were  three  mortal  hours  crawling  along 
on  those  confounded  roads.  It  rained,  of 
course,  and  a  wind  got  up,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  we  were  apparently  no  nearer 
Grey  Tor  than  when  we  left  Widdington. 

Miss  Virginia  kept  up  very  pluckily  for  a 
long  time,  but  she  was  dead  tired  and  very 
cold  and  became  more  and  more  silent.  It 
was  about  the  most  uncomfortable  predica 
ment  I  ever  was  in,  —  and  with  a  girl  on  my 
hands,  too,  a  thing  I  have  hitherto  always 
managed  to  avoid. 

And  then  a  thing  happened  that  really  I 
can't  account  for,  and  yet  I  suppose  it  has 
changed  the  whole  affair,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned.  I  feel  a  perfect  beast  whenever 
I  think  of  it,  and  I  hope  to  goodness  Miss 
Virginia  knows  nothing  about  it.  We  had 
come  to  an  interminable  hill,  and  I  had  been 
walking  for  about  half  an  hour.  Miss  Vir 
ginia  was  totally  silent  now,  and  suddenly  I 
saw  that  the  reins  had  slipped  from  her 


AT  THE  INN  173 

hands.  She  was  actually  asleep,  huddled 
up  in  my  coat  against  the  back  of  the  chaise. 
It  was  beginning  to  rain  again,  and  the  in 
cline  being  very  gentle  at  that  point,  I  felt 
I  had  to  get  in  and  hold  an  umbrella  over  the 
girl.  I  did,  and  a  sudden  jerk  of  the  wheels 
sent  her  almost  into  my  arms  without  waking 
her.  Her  head  was  on  my  shoulder,  her 
cheek  so  close  to  mine.  Of  course  I  have 
heard  fellows  talk  about  kissing :  I  have 
always  thought  it  a  disgusting  habit  myself, 
and  discouraged  it,  even  in  near  relations. 
But  now  —  now  it  seemed  suddenly  different 
—  she  seemed  meant  to  be  kissed  —  and  by 
me  —  and  well,  I  kissed  her  —  that 's  the 
naked  truth,  and  the  moment  I  had  done  it 
I  would  have  given  worlds  not  to  have  done 
it,  or  else  to  have  the  right  to  do  it  again. 
A  man  is  a  man  firstly,  I  suppose ;  but  sec 
ondly,  at  least,  he  ought  to  be  a  gentleman. 
That 's  the  thought  that  has  been  spinning 
in  my  head  all  night.  Does  Virginia  sus 
pect  ?  I  hope  not  —  and  yet  I  don't  know. 


174  THE  AFFAIR 

We  got  home,  of  course,  all  right  in  the 
end,  for  the  hotel  turned  up  quite  unex 
pectedly  round  a  corner,  with  all  the  lights 
shining  out  across  the  moor. 

N.  B.  There  has  been  the  devil  to  pay 
with  the  motor  and  the  old  women. 


AT  THE  INN  175 


Cecilia  Evesham 

I  HAVE  always  had  an  idea  that  events  need 
a  propelling  hand  every  now  and  then. 
Somehow  it  seemed  to  me  that  afternoon  at 
Widdino^ton  that  Virginia  and  Sir  Archibald 

o  o 

were  in  need  of  my  assistance,  and  I  took 
the  desperate  resolution  and  helped  them  to 
the  best  of  my  power.  This  is  what  I  did: 
I  undertook  to  look  after  Mrs.  MacGill  and 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  in  the  motor  if  Sir  Archibald 
drove  Virginia  home  in  the  pony  chaise ; 
but  not  content  with  this,  I  deliberately  sent 
them  round  by  a  road  some  five  miles  longer 
than  the  one  we  had  come  by.  I  happened 
to  be  speaking  with  the  landlady  about  the 
roads,  and  she  told  me  that  there  was  an 
other  way  back  to  Grey  Tor,  only  that  it  was 
longer.  The  idea  struck  me,  as  the  saying 
goes,  "  all  of  a  heap." 

"  Sir  Archibald,"  I  said,  returning  to  the 
parlour,  where   they  all    sat,   "  if  you  had 


176  THE  AFFAIR 

seen  the  business  I  had  to  get  Greytoria 
down  that  hill,  you  would  hesitate  more 
about  getting  her  up  it.  But  the  landlady 
here  tells  us  that  if  you  go  round  by  the 
lower  road  you  avoid  the  hill,  and  it  is  only 
a  little  longer. " 

"  I  don't  believe  in  country  people's  dis 
tances/'  he  said.  "  but  I  '11  inquire." 

I  turned  back,  as  if  by  accident,  into  the 
bar,  and  leaned  across  the  counter  towards 
the  landlady.  She  was  a  genial-looking  old 
woman  with  a  rollicking  eye. 

"  The  young  people  wish  to  go  round  by 
the  low  road,"  I  said, "  but  I  'm  afraid  there 
may  be  some  difficulties  made  about  it."  I 
hesitated  and  smiled  at  her,  adding,  "It's 
not  much  farther,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Happen  four  mile  or  so,  ma'am,"  she 
said,  looking  hard  at  me. 

"  Four  ?    As  much  as  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Happen  three  inile,  maybe,"  she  cor 
rected  ;  "  no,  two  and  a  half." 

Here  Sir  Archibald  came  out  to  inquire 


AT  THE  INN  177 

about  the  distance.  He  looked  up  at  the 
gray  skies  first,  and  seemed  uncertain. 

"  How  much  farther  do  you  call  it  by  the 
low  road  to  Grey  Tor  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Close  on  two  mile,  sir,"  she  mumbled 
shamelessly,  and  Sir  Archibald  hesitated  no 
longer. 

o 

"  Two  miles  of  level  are  better  than  half 
a  mile  of  precipice.  I  vote  for  the  longer 
road,  Miss  Pomeroy,"  he  said,  on  going 
back  into  the  parlour. 

Virginia  nodded  and  smiled.  She  was 
sitting  at  the  old,  tinny  -  sounding  spinet, 
singing  the  most  beautiful  little  wander 
ing  airs  that  might  have  been  learned  in 
fairyland. 

Suddenly  she  drifted  into  a  plaintive 
melody  we  had  not  heard  before,  and  when 
we  had  succumbed  to  its  spell  she  began 
singing  some  words  I  had  found  in  rny  dear 
mother's  diary.  I  had  given  the  verses  to 
Virginia,  and  she  had  set  them  to  an  air  of 
her  own.  It  is  a  part  of  her  charm  that  she 


178  THE  AFFAIR 

sings  sad  songs  as  if  she  had  never  felt  joy, 
and  gay  ones  as  if  she  had  never  known 
care  or  sorrow. 

'T  is  I  am  a  lady,  now  that  I  'm  old  ; 

I  'm  sheltered  from  hunger  and  want  and  cold, 

In  a  wonderful  country  that 's  rich  in  gold 

(And  life  to  the  last  is  sweet). 
Now  in  the  doorway  I  sit  at  my  ease, 
And  my  son's  son  he  plays  at  my  knees 

On  little  stumbling  feet. 
But  my  heart  goes  back  to  the  days  of  old, 
To  a  barren  country  where  gorse  is  gold, 
For  oh  !  it  was  there  that  my  love  was  told, 

'T  was  there  we  used  to  meet ! 

They  may  think  I  Ve  forgotten  the  land  forlorn, 

In  the  happy  valleys  covered  with  corn  ; 

They  may  lay  me  down  with  my  face  to  the  morn- 

A  stone  at  my  head  and  feet ; 
But  I  know  that  before  the  break  o'  the  day 
My  soul  will  arise  and  be  far  away 

(For  spirits  travel  fleet),  — 
Away  from  the  valleys  covered  with  corn, 
Back  again  to  the  land  forlorn, 
For  oh  !  It  was  there  that  my  Love  was  born, 

'T  was  there  we  used  to  meet !  * 

*  Mary  Findlater. 


AT  THE  INN  179 

Sir  Archibald,  Mr.  Willoughby,  and  I 
could  have  listened  for  an  hour,  but  I  felt 
that  it  was  time  to  hurry  off  the  elders  of 
the  party,  so  made  dark  allusions  to  the 
weather.  These  were  sufficient  to  rouse  Mrs. 
MacGill  and  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  who  were  in  a 
semi-comatose  condition  induced  by  copious 
draughts  of  tea. 

We  all  went  to  the  door  of  the  inn,  and 
Mr.  Willoughby  came  and  helped  me  to  my 
seat  in  the  motor. 

"  I  am  coming  across  to  Grey  Tor  on 
Saturday,"  he  said.  "  I  have  some  sketches 
to  take  over  that  way.  Shall  you  still  be  at 
the  inn?" 

"  Probably/'  I  answered  evasively. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  he  ;  "  perhaps  we  may 
have  another  talk  such  as  we  have  had  this 
afternoon." 

"Who  knows?  Talk  is  a  fugitive  plea 
sure,"  I  replied.  "  Some  days  it  will  be  good 
and  others  it  can't  be  captured  at  any  price." 

"  I  '11  come  in   the    chance    of   catching 


180  THE  AFFAIR 

some,"  he  whispered.  And  at  this  moment 
Mrs.  MacGill  interrupted  us  and  insisted 
that  I  should  tie  on  her  shawl.  The  home 
ward  drive  was  begun,  but  it  would  be  too 
long  a  story  to  describe  its  miseries.  Imagi 
nation  must  do  its  work  here. 


AT  THE  INN  181 

VII 

Virginia  Pomeroy 

JL  WOKE  this  morning  neither  rested  nor 
refreshed.  I  was  determined  not  to  stay  in 
bed,  for  I  wanted  to  show  Sir  Archibald 
by  my  calm  and  natural  demeanour  that  I 
was  unconscious  of  anything  embarrassing 
in  our  relations.  For  that  matter  I  am  not 
sure  that  there  is.  I  wore  my  pink  linen, 
and  looked  paler  instead  of  gayer,  as  I  in 
tended.  Breakfast  was  quiet,  though  mamma 
had  borne  the  picnic  wonderfully  and  Miss 
Evesham  was  brighter  than  usual.  Sir  Arch 
ibald  was  baffling.  He  met  my  eye  as  seldom 
as  possible,  but  I  am  glad  to  say,  though 
he  was  absent-minded,  he  was  not  grumpy. 
Why  do  I  care  whether  he  is  grumpy  or 
not  ?  Why  do  I  like  to  see  him  come  out 
sunny  and  warm  and  genial,  and  relax  his 
severe  face  into  an  unexpected  laugh  ?  And 


182  THE  AFFAIR 

why  do  I  feel  pleased  when  he  melts  under 
my  particular  coaxing  ?  I  have  deliberately 
tried  to  disparage  him  to  myself  and  com 
pare  him  with  other  men,  especially  with 
Breck  Calhoun,  always  to  his  disadvantage. 
He  is  not  a  bit  handsomer  than  Breck, 
though  mere  beauty  after  all  counts  for  al 
most  nothing  in  a  man.  He  has  n't,  on  the 
whole,  as  good  manners  as  Breck,  and  does 
n't  begin  to  understand  me  as  well.  He  is 
an  ordinary,  straight,  simple,  intelligent  but 
not  intellectual  Anglo-Saxon.  I  have  as 
sured  myself  of  this  dozens  of  times,  and 
having  treated  him  as  a  kind  of  snow  image, 
merely  for  the  satisfaction  of  throwing  dis 
paraging  epithets  at  him,  and  demolishing 
his  outline,  I  look  at  him  next  morning  only 
to  find  that  he  has  put  himself  together 
again  and  made  himself,  somehow,  into  the 
semblance  of  the  man  I  love. 

There  are  plenty  of  men  who  can  manage 
their  own  moods,  without  a  woman's  kind 
offices,  so  why  should  I  bother  about  his  ? 


AT  THE  INN  183 

If  it  were  Breck  Calhoun,  now,  he  would  be 
bothering  about  mine  !  It  is  just  the  time 
of  year  when  dear  old  Breck  makes  the  an 
nual  offer  of  his  heart  and  hand  —  more,  as 
he  says,  as  a  matter  of  habit  than  anything 
else,  and  simply  to  remind  me  that  there 
is  an  excellent  husband  waiting  for  me  at 
home  when  I  cease  running  after  strange 
hearts.  That  is  his  expression. 

I  think  some  of  the  marriages  between 
persons  of  different  nationality  must  come 
off  because  of  the  fascination  and  mystery 
that  each  has  for  the  other,  —  the  same  sort 
of  fascination,  but  a  still  stronger  one,  that 
is  exerted  by  an  opposite  temperament.  In 
the  friendship  of  a  man  of  Sir  Archibald's 
type  I  feel  a  sense  of  being  steadied  and 
strengthened,  simplified  and  balanced.  And 
there  ought  to  be  something  in  the  vivacity 
of  the  American  girl  —  the  result  of  climate 
and  circumstances  and  condition,  I  suppose 
—  which  should  enliven  and  stimulate  these 
graver  "  children  of  the  mist."  The  feeling 


184  THE  AFFAIR 

I  have  lately  had  for  Archibald  Mackenzie 
(he  would  frown  if  he  could  hear  me  leave 
out  the  Maxwell  and  the  Kindarroch)  is 
just  the  basis  I  need  for  love,  but  my  liking 
would  never  go  so  far  as  that,  unless  it  were 
compelled  by  a  still  stronger  feeling  on  the 
man's  part.  I  am  not  going  to  do  any  of 
the  wooing,  that  is  certain.  If  a  man  chose 
to  give  me  his  very  best  I  would  try  to  de 
serve  it  and  keep  it  and  cherish  it,  but  I 
have  no  desire  to  fan  his  inward  fires  be 
forehand.  After  he  is  once  kindled,  if  he 
has  n't  heat  enough  to  burn  of  his  own  free 
will,  then  let  him  go  out !  Sir  Archibald  is 
afraid  of  himself  and  afraid  of  love.  Well, 
he  need  not  worry  about  me  !  I  might  like 
to  see  the  delightfully  incongruous  spectacle 
of  a  man  of  his  type  honestly  and  heartily 
in  love,  and  (in  passing)  it  would  be  of  ines 
timable  benefit  to  his  character ;  but  I  want 
no  panic-stricken  lovers  in  my  company. 
Have  n't  I  enough  fears  of  my  own,  about 
wet  climates  and  cold  houses  and  monarchical 


AT  THE  INN  185 

governments  and  tin  bath-tubs  and  porridge 
and  my  mother's  preference  for  American 
husbands  ?  But  I  should  despise  myself  if 
I  did  n't  feel  capable  of  throwing  all  these, 
and  more,  overboard  if  the  right  time  ever 
comes. 

I  have  n't  been  downstairs  either  to  lun 
cheon  or  tea,  but  I  looked  from  mamma's 
window  and  chanced  to  see  Johnson  putting- 
Sir  Archibald's  portmanteau  into  the  motor. 
I  thought  this  morning  that  he  intended  to 
run  away.  And  that  is  the  stuff  they  make 
soldiers  of  in  Scotland !  Afraid  of  love ! 
Fie!  Sir  Archibald  ! 

I  cannot  succeed  in  feeling  like  the 
"  maiden  all  forlorn."  It  impresses  me 
somehow  that  he  has  gone  away  to  think  it 
over.  Well,  that  is  reasonable  ;  I  don't  sup 
pose  to  a  man  of  Sir  Archibald's  tempera 
ment  two  weeks  seems  an  extreme  length  of 

o 

time  in  which  to  choose  a  wife  ;  and  as  I 
need  considerable  reflection  on  my  part  I  '11 


186  THE  AFFAIR 

go  away  too,  presently,  and  take  mamma  to 
Torquay,  as  was  our  original  intention.  Tor 
quay  is  relaxing,  and  I  think  I  have  been  a 
trifle  too  much  stimulated  by  this  bracing 
moorland  air.  I  hope  for  his  own  comfort 
that  Sir  Archibald  will  do  his  thinking  in  a 
warmer  clime ;  and  when  (or  if)  he  returns 
to  acquaint  Virginia  with  the  result  of  his 
meditations,  he  will  learn  that  she  also  is 
thinking  —  but  in  a  place  unknown  ! 


AT  THE  INN  187 


Mrs.  MacGill 

IT  is  just  as  I  feared.  The  trouble  is  in  my 
right  knee,  so  stiff  that  I  can  scarcely  bend 
it,  and  exceedingly  painful.  Cecilia  calls  it 
"  a  touch  of  rheumatism." 

"  Indeed,"  I  said,  "  it 's  a  pretty  secure 
grasp,  not  a  touch  ;  were  I  what  is  called  a 
danseuse,  my  livelihood  would  be  gone,  but 
mercifully  I  don't  need  to  dance." 

Cecilia  laughed ;  she  thinks  nothing  of 
any  illness  but  neuralgia. 

"We  must  leave  this  place  very  soon," 
said  I,  "  and  return  to  Tunbridge  Wells  ; 
life  here  is  fit  only  for  cannibals." 

In  the  morning  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  come  down  to  breakfast,  but  with  great 
difficulty  I  dragged  myself  downstairs  about 
eleven.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  the  son  of  an 
old  friend  to  seek  an  opportunity  for  quietly 
speaking  my  mind  to  Sir  Archibald  about 


188  THE  AFFAIR 

Miss  Pomeroy,  so  decided  to  do  it  at  once. 
I  found  them  together,  as  usual,  in  the  cof 
fee-room.  The  girl  was  looking  pale ;  she  is 
beginning  to  be  afraid  that  her  arts  are  in 
vain. 

Sir  Archibald  was  standing  beside  her, 
looking  very  much  bored.  She  made  some 
excuse,  and  left  the  room  soon  after  I  had 
come  in. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  the  worse  of  your 
adventure  in  the  motor,  Mrs.  MacGill,"  Sir 
Archibald  began. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  sitting  down  close 
to  him.  "  I  am,  a  good  deal.  My  right  knee 
is  excessively  painful,  and  I  have  a  very 
strange  buzzing  in  the  head." 

"Ah,  you  are  not  accustomed  to  the 
motor  ;  it 's  all  habit." 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  a  motor,  Sir 
Archibald,"  said  I,  "nor  am  I  accustomed 
to  the  ways  of  young  women  nowadays,  — 
young  ladies  we  used  to  be  called  when  I 
was  a  girl,  but  I  feel  that  the  phrase  is  quite 


AT  THE  INN  189 

inapplicable  to  a  person  like  Miss  Pome- 
roy." 

"  6  Young  woman  '  is  better,  perhaps," 
he  said,  I  thought  with  a  smile. 

"  No  lady,"  I  continued,  "  when  /  was 
young,  would  talk  like  that  or  act  like  that. 
'  A  sweet  face  shrinking  under  a  cottage 
bonnet '  (as  Mr.  MacGill  used  to  say)  is  bet 
ter  than  any  tulip." 

Sir  Archibald  smiied  again,  and  seemed 
about  to  leave  the  room,  but  I  asked  him  to 
be  so  good  as  to  hold  a  skein  of  wool  for  me. 
I  had  brought  down  my  knitting,  so  he  sat 
down  to  hold  it,  looking  rather  annoyed. 

I  continued  firmly,  "  There  is  a  freedom 
—  I  should  almost  say  a  license  —  about 
American  women  and  their  ways  "  — 

"  You  have  dropped  your  ball,"  he  said  ; 
and  when  he  had  returned  it  to  me,  he  be 
gan  to  try  to  change  the  subject  by  remark 
ing  about  the  weather. 

"It  is,"  I  said,  "extremely  cold,  as  it  has 
always  been  ever  since  I  came  here,  but,  as 


190  THE  AFFAIR 

I  was  saying,  there  is  something  about  Miss 
Pomeroy's  singing"  — 

Here  he  bent  his  head  so  low  that  I  was 
unable  to  see  his  face,  and  stretched  my 
wool  so  tight  that  I  fear  my  next  socks  will 
be  spoiled ;  it  was  three-ply  merino,  and 
very  soft. 

"  She  sings,"  I  went  on  without  taking 
any  notice  of  the  wool,  "  in  a  way  that  I  feel 
sure  poor  Mr.  MacGill  would  have  considered 
indecorous.  I  was  a  musician  myself  as  a 
girl,  and  used  to  sing  with  much  expression. 
( She  wore  a  Wreath  of  Roses '  was  a  great 
favourite.  I  always  expected  to  be  asked  to 
repeat  it.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  when 
I  came  to  — 

A  sombre  widow's  cap  adorns 
Her  once  luxuriant  hair, 

a  gentleman  who  stood  by  the  piano  —  he 
was  a  widower  —  was  obliged  to  turn  away. 
But  that  was  quite  a  different  matter  from 
the  kind  of  expression  that  Miss  Pomeroy 
puts  into  things.  It 's  not  proper.  I  must 


AT  THE  INN  191 

speak  plainly  to  you,  and  say  it  is  almost 
passionate,  though  I  dislike  to  use  the  word. 

When  I  am  dead,  my  dearest  — 

Are  these  words  for  the  drawing-room  ? 
You  are  pulling  my  skein  rather  tight,  Sir 
Archibald.  It  stretches  so  easily,  and  these 
light  wools  require  such  care. 

And  dreaming  through  the  twilight, 

Haply  I  may  remember,  and  haply  may  forget. 

Remember  what  ?  forget  what  f  The  in 
quiry  rises  unbidden.  Just  ask  yourself  if 
these  are  words  for  the  lips  of  any  young 
woman  —  far  less  a  young  lady" 

Here  Sir  Archibald  coughed  so  violently 
that  he  had  to  let  go  my  wool  (which  got 
all  tangled)  and  stand  up. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  interrupted,  "  but  I 
have  promised  to  speak  with  Johnson  about 
something  "  — 

"  I  won't  detain  you  more  than  a  minute," 
I  interrupted,  "  only  just  to  say  a  word  of 
warning  to  the  son  of  an  old  friend.  For- 


192  THE  AFFAIR 

eigners  who  speak  our  own  language  are  the 
worst  of  all.  Oh,  Sir  Archibald,  your  grand 
mother  was  Scotch,  your  mother  was  Scotch 
before  you  were  born,  and  all  your  good 
aunts  too.  I  must  warn  you  that  if  you  let 
this  American  girl,  this  Miss  Ponieroy,  suc 
ceed  in  her  attempt  "  — 

"Mrs.  MacGill,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  cannot 
allow  you  to  use  Miss  Pomeroy's  name  to 
me  in  this  way." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I,  "  but  if  you  do  not 
take  my  advice  and  beware,  Miss  Pomeroy 
will  have  no  name  to  mention,  for  she  will 
be  Lady  Maxwell  Mackenzie,  and  you  will 
be  a  miserable  man  with  an  American  wife." 

He  muttered  something,  I  could  n't  say 
what ;  the  word  "  Jove "  was  mentioned, 
and  there  was  some  allusion  to  "an  old  cat." 
I  failed  to  see  the  connection,  for  no  one 
could  call  Miss  Pomeroy  "old,"  whatever  she 
is  ;  then  without  a  word  of  apology  he  left 
the  room.  Young  men.,  even  baronets,  have 
no  manners  nowadays.  Mr.  MacGill's  were 


AT  THE  INN  193 

courtly  ;  he  never  used  one  word  where  two 
would  do,  and  bowed  frequently  to  every 
lady,  often  apologizing  most  profusely  when 
there  was  no  occasion  for  it. 


194  THE  AFFAIR 


Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

CARLETON  HOTEL,  LONDON 

I  CAME  down  late,  the  morning  after  that 
drive,  having  spent  a  bad  night.  In  spite  of 
the  fact  that  Johnson  had  been  out  with  the 
motor  and  the  old  ladies  till  nearly  midnight, 
I  never  thought  of  going  down  to  look  at 
the  car.  It  had  lost  interest  in  a  way  I  did  n't 
like.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  thinking  of 
nothing  at  all  except  of  that  girl.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  that  this  was  not  to  be 
endured.  Since  I  kissed  her  —  it  is  awful  to 
confess  it  —  I  have  wished  for  nothing  so 
much  as  to  kiss  her  again,  and  before  I  be 
come  the  sort  of  blithering  idiot  that  a  man 
is  when  in  love,  I  must  and  shall  be  off.  It 
is  not  the  girl  I  funk ;  she  is  a  nice  girl ;  I 
never  wish  to  see  a  nicer,  and  I  know  I  never 
shall.  It  is  the  feeling  I  am  beginning  to  have 
about  her.  When  she  is  not  there  I  feel  as 


AT  THE  INN  195 

if  something  necessary  to  niy  existence  were 
wanting',  —  as  if  1  had  come  off  without  a 
pocket-handkerchief  or  gone  out  in  a  top- 
hat  and  frock-coat  without  an  umbrella  on 
a  showery  day  in  town.  When  a  man  gets 
to  feel  this  about  another  human  being  it 
is  time  he  was  off.  I  have  sent  orders  to 
Johnson  to  be  ready  to  start  at  any  mo 
ment. 

I  wish  I  had  not  seen  Miss  Virginia,  though, 
before  going.  She  looked  so  pale  and  done 
up.  Mrs.  MacGill  came  im;o  the  room  before 
I  had  time  to  speak  to  her,  even  to  tell  her  I 
was  going  away,  though  I  somehow  think  she 
guessed  it.  As  to  that  old  frump,  that  harpy 
in  black  velvet  and  beads,  Mrs.  MacGill,  I 
will  not  write  down  the  things  she  elected  to 
say  to  me  about  Virginia,  when  she  had  got 
me  tied  to  her  apron  string  with  her  con 
founded  skein  of  wool.  I  wish  I  had  chucked 
it  in  her  face  and  told  her  to  go  to  the  devil. 
If  I  'd  had  the  spirit  of  half  a  man,  I  would 
have  done  it,  and  gone  straight  to  Virginia. 


196  THE  AFFAIR 

Virginia !  This  gave  me  a  feeling  about 
her  that  I  can't  describe,  —  much,  much 
worse  than  the  handkerchief  -an  d-umbrella 
feeling,  —  a  feeling  that  seemed  to  tweak 
and  pull  at  something  inside  me  that  I  had 
never  been  conscious  of  before.  But  I  had 
an  obstinate  fit  on,  that  I  'm  subject  to,  like 
other  men,  I  suppose.  I  had  said  I  would 
go,  and  I  have  gone,  leaving  a  card  of 
good-by  for  the  Pomeroys,  and  making 
straight  for  town. 

It  is  no  use ;  for  after  a  few  days  of 
struggle  and  doubt  and  misery,  I  have  got 
to  go  back  to  that  girl  —  if  I  can  find  her. 
What  a  wretched  time  I  have  had !  If  this 
is  being  in  love  I  hope  it  won't  last.  I  'm 
told  it  does  n't  usually,  after  marriage.  Per 
haps  it  settles  down  into  something  more 
comfortable,  that  does  not  interfere  with  a 
man's  meals  or  destroy  his  sleep.  It  is  awful 
to  think  that  your  whole  life  may  or  may 
not  be  changed,  according  to  the  fancy  of  a 


AT  THE  INN  197 

girl  whose  existence  you  weren't  aware  of 
a  fortnight  ago!  I  have  told  Johnson  we 
are  going  straight  back  to  Dartmoor,  and 
he  grinned  —  the  wretch  !  Of  course  he 
knows  why. 


198  THE  AFFAIR 


Cecilia  Evesham 

GREY  TOR  INN 

Thursday  morning 

ENDED  the  Dartmoor  drama !  Gone  Sir  Archi 
bald  !  Vanished  the  motor !  Gone  too,  dear 
Virginia  and  Mrs.  Pomeroy  !  only  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  and  I  are  left !  He  went  on  Wednes 
day,  the  Pomeroy s  on  Thursday,  and  I  now 
await  events.  Virginia  tells  me  she  has  taken 
her  mother  to  Torquay,  but  that  is  a  wide 
word ! 

Saturday 

I  thought  it  would  be  so  :  a  week  without 
her  was  enough.  Yesterday  Sir  Archibald, 
or  what  used  to  be  Sir  Archibald,  appeared 
at  the  inn  again. 

But  what  a  change  was  here!  Shall  I  put 
down  our  conversation  without  comment  ? 

Cecilia:  So  you  have  come  back,  Sir 
Archibald  ? 

Sir  A. :  Yes. 


AT  THE  INN  199 

Cecilia :  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  run 
to  town,  or  wherever  you  went. 

Sir  A. :  Beastly. 

Cecilia:  What?  Did  the  motor  break 
down,  or  the  weather? 

Sir  A. :  Neither. 

Cecilia  :  What  was  wrong,  then  ? 

Sir  A.:  Everything.  (Then  suddenly) 
Where  have  the  Poineroys  gone  to,  Miss 
Eveshain  ? 

Cecilia  :  To  Torquay,  I  understand. 

Sir  A.  :  Do  you  know  their  address  ? 

Cecilia :  I  do  not.  I  suppose  they  will 
be  at  one  of  the  hotels. 

Sir  A. :  You  are  making  fun  of  me. 
Tell  me  where  they  are.  I  am  in  earnest. 

Cecilia :  So  am  I.  I  do  not  know  their 
address. 

He  started  up,  wrung  my  hand  without  a 
word,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room.  I  looked 
after  him  in  the  hall,  but  he  was  so  intent 
on  the  Torquay  guide  that  he  never  noticed 
me. 


200  THE  AFFAIR 

He  steamed  off  Torquay-wards  half  an 
hour  later. 

I  have  had  a  pleasant  chat  with  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby,  who  appeared  this  afternoon.  He 
looks  at  life  and  all  things  much  as  I  do. 
He  is  a  distinct  relief  from  Mr.  Mac  Gill,  a 
distinct  relief ;  and  though  he  has  made  no 
special  reputation  as  yet,  he  is  bound  to  suc 
ceed,  for  he  has  decided  talent. 


AT  THE  INN  201 

VIII 
Mrs.  MacGffl 


M 


.Y  words  have  taken  effect ;  it  is  often 
disagreeable  to  have  to  give  unasked  advice, 
but  one  should  always  do  it.  Sir  Archibald 
has  gone.  It  is  a  pleasant  thought  that  any 
simple  words  of  mine  may  have  been  the 
means  of  saving  the  young  man  from  that 
designing  person. 

She  conceals  her  disappointment  as  well 
as  she  can,  and  is  doing  her  best  to  look  as 
if  nothing  had  happened  in  one  way  or  an 
other;  but  I  can  see  below  the  surface  of 
that  new  hat.  She  has  taken  her  mother  off 
to  Torquay  for  a  few  days.  It  is  a  large  town 
seemingly,  though  I  have  heard  that  there 
are  no  men  there  ;  but  as  the  guide-book  says 
the  population  is  twenty-five  thousand,  that 
is  probably  an  exaggeration.  However,  Miss 
Ponieroy  won't  stay  long  in  Torquay  in  that 


202  THE  AFFAIR 

case,  but  will  return  to  New  York,  where 
she  would  fain  make  us  believe  they  are  as 
plentiful  as  in  a  harem.  They  cannot  all  be 
millionaires  at  least,  for  she  says  that  many 
American  writers  live  on  what  they  make  by 
their  books. 

Cecilia  would  like  to  stay  on  here,  I  think. 
She  has  been  up  to  the  top  of  a  quarry  look 
ing  at  gorse  along  with  that  so-called  artist, 
Mr.  Willoughby. 

Miss  Pomeroy  has  infected  her,  I  am  afraid, 
and  the  bad  example  is  telling,  even  at  that 
age. 

We  have  had  several  nice  quiet  days  here 
alone  since  the  Pomeroys  left.  There  has 
scarcely  been  a  sound  in  the  hotel,  except 
when  the  wind  pounces  upon  the  window 
frames  in  the  sudden  annoying  way  that  it 
has  here.  Twice  I  have  got  up,  to  endeavour 
to  fasten  the  window,  and  each  time  have  lost 
a  toothbrush.  It  shakes  my  nerves  com 
pletely  when  the  windows  clatter  suddenly 


AT  THE  INN  203 

through  the  night.  Yesterday  as  we  sat  in 
the  dining-room  I  heard  a  crunching  noise. 
"Can  that  be  another  motor?"  I  ex 
claimed.  "  I  hope  not.  It  is  a  class  of 
people  I  do  not  wish  to  associate  with  any 
further." 

"  It  is  a  motor,"  called  Cecilia,  who  sat 
next  the  window.    "  A  scarlet  motor,  too." 
In  another  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie  came  in. 

"  Dear  me,  Sir  Archibald,"  said  I,  "  what 
has  brought  you  back  again  so  soon  ?  You 
will  have  a  nice  quiet  time  here  now,  for  we 
are  the  only  people  in  the  hotel." 

He  seemed  strangely  put  out  and  unlike 
himself,  and  passed  my  chair  without  even 
replying  to  my  speech.  I  could  see  that  he 
was  thoroughly  unnerved,  very  much  in  the 
same  state  that  I  was  when  we  came  back 
from  that  terrible  drive.  It  is  no  wonder; 
motoring  must  tell  on  the  strongest  nerves 
in  time. 

Later  in  the  day  Cecilia  came  in  smiling. 


204  THE  AFFAIR 

"  Sir  Archibald  has  gone  away  again/'  she 
said.  "  He  has  not  made  a  long  stay  this 
time  !  " 

"  No/'  I  observed,  "  that  sort  of  nervous 
excitement  grows  on  people.  I  know  myself 
that  if  I  once  begin  to  get  excited  over  a 
bazaar,  for  instance,  I  get  off  my  sleep,  and 
worn  out  in  no  time.  I  suppose  he  has 
rushed  off  farther  into  the  moor." 

"  He  has  gone  to  Torquay/'  remarked 
Cecilia,  "  quite  an  easy  run  from  here." 

I  was  much  annoyed.  It  seemed  probable 
that  he  would  meet  Miss  Pomeroy  again 
there,  though  possible  that  among  twenty- 
five  thousand  women  he  might  fail  to  recog 
nize  her.  I  think  Cecilia  and  I  must  take  a 
day  or  two  at  Torquay  on  our  way  home. 
It  would  soothe  me  after  this  mountain  air 
and  the  desolation  of  Grey  Tor,  and  I  could 
get  some  fresh  bead  trimming  for  my  velvet 
mantle,  which  has  been  much  destroyed  by 
all  that  I  have  come  through  in  this  place. 
Our  packing  will  be  very  easily  done.  Poor 


AT  THE  INN  205 

Mr.  Mac  Gill  used  always  to  say,  in  his  play 
ful  manner,  that  he  could  stand  anything  ex 
cept  a  woman's  luggage,  which  is  the  reason 
that  I  always  try  to  travel  with  as  little  as 
possible.  So  there  will  be  only  our  two  large 
boxes  and  the  holdall  and  my  black  bag 
and  the  split  cane  basket  and  the  Holland 
umbrella-case,  with  two  straps  of  rugs  and 
the  small  brown  box,  and  the  two  hat  boxes, 
and  a  basket  with  some  food.  Miss  Poin- 
eroy's  boxes  were  like  arks.  I  'm  sure  if  she 
succeeds  in  her  design,  I  pity  the  man  that 
has  to  take  them  back  to  Scotland ;  they 
would  never  go  in  the  motor.  I  think  Grey- 
toria  and  the  pony  chaise  will  manage  all 
our  little  things  quite  nicely.  She  seems  the 
quietest  animal  in  the  stables,  so  I  must  just 
trust  myself  in  it  once  more. 

There  goes  Cecilia  again,  walking  on  the 
gravel  at  the  door  with  that  Mr.  Willoughby. 
We  must  certainly  leave  to-ruorrow  morn 
ing. 

One  affair  such  as  that  of  Miss  Poineroy 


206  THE  AFFAIR 

and  Sir  Archibald  is  enough  for  me  to  en 
dure  without  being  witness  of  another. 

One  would  suppose  common  modesty  would 
prevent  .a  young  gentleman  and  lady  from 
indulging  in  a  love-affair  whilst  inhabiting 
an  ordinary  country  inn ;  but  there  is  no 
limit  to  the  boldness  of  these  Americans.  I 
sometimes  think  it  is  a  pity  that  they  were 
discovered,  for  they  have  been  a  bad  exam 
ple  to  more  retiring  and  respectable  nations. 


AT  THE  IXN  207 

Sir  Archibald  Maxwell  Mackenzie 

TORQUAY 

THAT  dreary  week  of  uncertainty  in  London 
seemed  more  foolish  than  ever,  when  John 
son  and  I  struck  the  familiar  road  from  Stoke 
Babbage  to  the  moor.  What  a  silly  ass  I 
was,  I  thought,  to  kick  my  heels  at  the 
Carleton  all  those  tiresome  days  when  I  might 
have  been  with  Virginia  ! 

It  all  looked  exactly  the  same  as  we  came 
up  the  hill  from  the  little  town,  —  the  bare 
walls  of  the  hotel,  Grey  Tor  with  a  row  of 
tourists  on  the  top,  moor  ponies  feeding  all 
over  the  place,  with  their  tiny  foals  running- 
after  them.  It  was  a  lovely,  cloudless  day, 
with  "  blue  distances  "  enough  to  please  all 
the  artists  in  creation,  and  the  hot  air  quiv 
ered  over  the  heath  as  I  ?ve  seen  it  do  at 
home  on  an  August  afternoon.  I  seemed 
to  hear  Virginia's  voice  already,  to  see  her 


208  THE  AFFAIR 

standing  on  the  step  in  one  of  her  pretty 
new  frocks,  and  my  spirits  went  up  with  a 
bound.  But  when  I  got  to  the  door  there  was 
no  one  there.  I  went  into  the  dining-room ; 
the  tables  were  changed ;  the  one  at  which 
we  all  used  to  sit  together  in  the  window  was 
pushed  into  the  middle  of  the  room.  At  a 
small  table  on  the  side  were  seated  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  and  Miss  Evesham,  while  the  Exeter 
artist  was  at  another  one  not  far  off.  Miss 
Evesham  and  he  seemed  to  be  having  a 
pretty  lively  conversation,  while  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  looked  thoroughly  out  of  it  and  decid 
edly  sulky. 

"  What !  "  cried  Miss  Evesham,  seeing  me, 
"  You  are  back,  Sir  Archibald !  Had  Lon 
don  no  attractions  ?  " 

"  I  hate  town  in  the  heat,"  I  replied. 

Of  course  I  wanted  to  ask  where  the  Pome- 
roys  were,  but  could  n't  bring  myself  to  do 
it,  —  especially  before  Mrs.  MacGill.  I  had 
pointedly  ignored  her,  and  had  every  inten 
tion  of  continuing  to  do  so.  After  lunch,  at 


AT  THE  INN  209 

the  bureau,  I  found  that  the  Pomeroys  had 
left  some  days  ago.  I  could  n't  bring  myself 
to  ask  for  their  address,  with  about  a  dozen 
people  listening,  so  I  had  to  hang  about  and 
wait  for  a  chance  of  seeing  Miss  Evesham 
alone.  It  was  after  dinner  before  I  got  it. 
I  could  see  that  she  was  laughing  at  me, 
under  the  rose  —  confound  her  impudence  ! 
—  and  that  she  seemed  to  take  a  kind  of 
pleasure  in  keeping  me  waiting.  She  and 
the  artist  chap  appeared  to  be  as  thick  as 
thieves,  but  at  last  she  sent  him  off  and 
began  teasing  me  in  her  quiet  way. 

66  Are  you  a  good  sailor,  Sir  Archibald  ?  " 
she  asked  irrelevantly. 

"  Not  particularly.     Why?"  was  my  re- 


"  The  Atlantic  is  a  wide  ocean,  and  gen 
erally  very  rough,  I  have  heard,"  said  she, 
with  a  queer  look  at  my  face. 

U0h!"  cried  I  involuntarily.  "  Have 
they  crossed?  " 

She  burst  out  laughing. 


210  THE  AFFAIR 

"You  're  fairly  caught !  "  she  said.  "  Am 
I  supposed  to  know  who  '  they  '  are  ?  " 

Then  of  course  I  had  to  let  on.  I  could 
see  Miss  Evesham  knew  all  about  it,  though 
she  did  not  say  much,  being  more  inclined 
to  laugh ;  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  why.  The 
Pomeroys  had  gone  to  Torquay,  but  she 
either  could  not  or  would  not  tell  me  their 
address,  or  how  long  they  were  going  to 
stay,  or  where  they  were  going  next. 

"  Torquay  is  a  big  place,"  I  said,  discour 
aged,  "  all  hotels  and  lodgings.  How  the 
deuce  shall  I  find  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  replied  coolly,  "  people  gen 
erally  find  what  they  want  very  much  —  if 
they  are  really  in  earnest." 

With  that  she  nodded  me  good-night,  still 
laughing.  I  did  not  see  her  again,  for  of 
course  I  made  an  early  morning  start  for 
Torquay  next  day. 

And  the  devil  of  a  hunt  I  had,  when  I 
got  there  !  What  silly  idiots  women  are  I  (Of 
course  I  mean  Miss  Evesham.)  There  are 


AT  THE  INN  211 

about  one  hundred  hotels,  three  hundred 
boarding-houses,  and  one  thousand  furnished 
apartments  in  Torquay,  and  search  as  I 
might,  I  could  not  find  the  Pomeroys'  name 
on  any  of  their  lists,  or  discover  a  trace  of 
them  anywhere.  It  was  a  broiling  hot  day, 
the  sun  beat  down  without  mercy,  and  the 
glare  beat  up  from  the  beastly  white  roads 
and  pavements  till  I  was  nearly  blind.  I  was 
never  so  nearly  used  up  in  my  life  as  at  the 
end  of  that  day,  and  it  was  not  only  with 
bodily  fatigue,  but  with  utter  and  most  cruel 
disappointment ;  for  I  was  convinced  that 
the  Pomeroys  had  left  Torquay,  and  that, 
like  an  utter  fool,  I  had  missed  my  only 
chance  of  being  happy  with  a  woman. 

At  last  between  six  and  seven  of  the 
evening,  I  found  myself  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  a  little  sort  of  wood,  below  a  garden 
overhanging  the  sea.  The  trees  were  cut 
away,  here  and  there,  to  show  the  view,  and 
to  the  right  you  looked  along  the  coast  and 
saw  some  red  rocks  and  a  green  headland 


212  THE  AFFAIR 

jutting  out  into  the  water.  It  was  sunset ; 
I  was  watching  a  little  yawl  in  full  sail 
slipping  round  the  headland,  and  when  it 
was  out  of  sight,  I  looked  at  the  headland 
itself.  There  was  one  figure  on  the  piece  of 
green  downs  at  the  top,  —  a  tall,  slight  figure, 
a  woman's,  all  in  white,  with  a  red  parasol. 

My  heart  jumped  into  my  throat.  I  knew 
it  was  Virginia.  There  was  a  piece  of  white 
scarf  or  veil  floating  out  behind  her  as  she 
walked,  and  there  is  no  woman  in  the  world 
but  Virginia  who  stands  like  that  or  wears 
a  scarf  like  that !  —  Oh  !  Virginia,  so  dear 
and  so  distant,  how,  how  could  I  reach  her, 
not  having  the  wings  of  a  bird  ?  Long  be 
fore  I  could  get  there  she  would  be  gone,  — 
lost  again  in  that  howling  wilderness  of  ho 
tels  and  lodging-houses. 

A  man  came  along  the  path  where  I  was 
standing. 

"  How  do  you  get  to  that  place  ?  "  I  in 
quired,  pointing  to  the  headland,  "  and  what 
is  it  called  ?  " 


AT  THE  LSfN  213 

"It's  called  Daddy  Hole  Plain/'  said 
the  man,  "  and  you  get  there  by  the  road. 
I  can't  direct  you  from  here ;  you  must  in 
quire  as  you  go  along." 

"  Is  there  no  short  cut?  "  I  inquired  im 
patiently. 

"  Not  unless  you  can  swim  or  fly  !  "  said 
the  man.  with  a  grin. 

'  o 

I  never  wished  before  to  be  a  bird  or  a 
fish  ;  mere  feet  seemed  a  most  inadequate 
means  of  getting  me  to  Virginia.  But  I  set 
off,  very  nearly  at  a  run.  The  wrong  turns 
that  I  took,  the  hills  that  I  went  up,  the 
hills  that  I  went  down,  the  people  that  I 
asked,  the  wrong  directions  they  gave  me, 
—  they  seemed  quite  innumerable.  Daddy 
Hole  Plain  was  about  as  difficult  to  get  to 
as  Heaven,  and  when  I  got  there  the  angel 
would  be  flown ! 

But  she  was  n't.  .  .  .  For  when  at  last  I 
saw  before  me  the  bit  of  green  downs  with 
the  seats  facing  the  bay,  the  white  figure 
was  there.  Virginia  was  sitting  looking  out 


214  THE  AFFAIR 

to  sea  where  the  sun  was  setting,  making  a 
red  path  on  the  water,  and  the  white-sailed 
yawl  was  drifting  to  the  west !  .  .  .  I  was 
so  hot  and  tired,  so  travel-stained  and  dusty  ! 
Virginia  looked  so  cool  and  sweet!  .  .  , 
To  see  her  there  after  all  my  wandering  and 
disappointment  was  too  much.  ...  I  could 
not  speak.  She  heard  my  step,  looked  up 
and  saw  me  coming  —  looked  glad,  I  think. 
.  .  .  Her  little  feet  were  crossed  in  front  of 
her  upon  the  turf,  and  I  just  flung  myself 
beside  them,  and  something  —  so  like  a  lump 
of  ice,  that  I  had  always  carried  in  my  breast 
until  I  saw  Virginia  —  melted  entirely  at 
that  moment,  and  began  to  beat. 


Copyright,  190*,  bj  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 

SOMETHING  IN  MY  BREAST  MELTED  ENTIRELY  AT  THAT  MOMENT 


AT  THE  INN  215 


Virginia  Pomeroy 

TORQUAY,  SOUTH  DEVON 

BELLA  VISTA  HOTEL 

June,  19— 

IF  he  had  come  the  next  day,  or  even  the 
same  week,  he  would  have  had  a  cold  wel 
come,  for  on  the  whole  I  did  not  understand, 
nor  did  I  fancy,  his  methods. 

But  I  had  had  time  to  think,  time  to  talk 
it  over  with  mamma,  time  to  write  Breck 
Calhoun  that  there  was  no  use  in  our  dis 
cussing  the  old  subject,  for  I  feared,  though 
I  was  not  absolutely  sure,  that  there  was 
"some  one  else."  Always  dear  old  Breck 
has  finished  by  saying,  "  Jinny,  there  is  no 
one  else  ?  "  And  there  never  was  till  now. 

Now  there  is  not  only  some  one  else,  but 
there  is  also  in  very  truth  "  no  one  else " 
who  counts  !  All  is  absolutely  different  from, 
and  yet  precisely  like,  everything  that  I  have 
imagined  ever  since  the  foundation  of  the 


216  THE  AFFAIR 

earth.  In  love,  he  is,  what  all  good  men  and 
good  women  ought  to  be,  something  quite 
unlike  his  former  self,  or  the  outer  self  he 
shows  to  the  world.  He  has  lost  himself  and 
found  himself  again  in  me,  and  I  have  gone 
through  the  same  mysterious  operation.  He 
has  place  for  no  troublesome  uncertainty  of 
mind  now,  although  mamma  and  I  have  de 
creed  a  year  of  waiting  in  which  we  shall  have 
ample  time  to  change  if  we  choose.  But  we 
shall  not  choose ;  we  were  made  for  each  other, 
as  we  have  both  known  ever  since  the  day  we 
had  luncheon  together  at  The  Mug  o'  Cider 
in  Little  Widger. 

o 

What  chapters,  what  books,  we  talked 
sitting  in  the  gorse  bushes  on  Daddy  Hole 
Plain  !  In  the  evening  of  my  days  I  shall 
doubtless  be  glad  that  I  climbed  those 
heights,  remembering  that  Archibald  had  to 
exert  himself  somewhat  arduously  in  order 
to  ask  me  to  marry  him.  I  wanted  to  be 
alone  and  feast  my  eyes  on  the  dazzling  blue 
of  the  sea,  one  broad  expanse  of  sapphire, 


AT  THE  INN  217 

stretching  off,  off,  into  eternity  ;  a  blue  all 
be-diamonded  with  sunlit  sparkles  ;  a  blue 
touched  with  foam-flecks  wherever  it  broke  on 
the  rocks  or  the  islets.  Granted  that  any  view 
has  charms  when  one  is  young  and  in  love, 
the  view  from  Daddy  Hole  Plain  would  in 
spire  an  octogenarian,  or  even  a  misogynist. 

"  It  was  in  Exeter  we  really  met,  you  re 
member?  "  I  reminded  Archibald. 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  it." 

"  Do  you  chance  to  know  the  motto  that 
your  virgin  queen,  Elizabeth,  bestowed  upon 
Exeter?  It  was  Semper  ji  del  is." 

"  That 's  a  good  omen,  is  n't  it,"  he  said. 
"  You  always  do  find  out  the  cleverest  things, 
Virginia  !  How  am  I  ever  to  keep  up  with 
you?" 

"Don't  try  !  "  I  answered,  quite  too  happy 
to  be  anything  but  vainglorious.  "  Gaze  at 
me  on  my  superior  intellectual  height,  and 
when  I  meet  your  admiring  eyes  you  can 
trust  me  to  remember  that  though  you  are 
voluntarily  standing  on  a  step  below,  your 


218  THE  AFFAIR 

head  is  higher  than  mine  after  all !  Archi 
bald,  do  you  know  what  I  am  to  give  you 
for  a  wedding  present  ?  " 

"No,"  he  answered  gravely;  ais  it  your 
mother?" 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  lend  mamma  to  Miss 
Evesham  for  a  little,  until  her  turn  comes,  -1- 
dear  old  Cecilia !  " 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  ever  come?  " 

"  It 's  only  just  round  the  corner  ;  Cupid 
is  even  now  sharpening  his  arrows  and  paint 
ing  little  pictures  on  the  shafts." 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  Well,  is  it  Greytoria?  for  I 
don't  mind  saying  that  I  'm  quite  ready  to 
give  her  a  stall  in  my  stables  at  Kindarroch  ; 
though  of  all  the  ill-conducted  and  lazy  little 
brutes  "- 

"  Be  careful,  Archibald,"  I  exclaimed 
warningly?  "you  owe  some  few  hours  of 
martyrdom,  but  many  a  debt  of  gratitude, 
to  that  same  Greytoria." 

"  I  remember  only  one,"  he  said,  looking 
at  me  in  a  very  embarrassing  way,  "  and  by 


AT  THE  INN  219 

George,  she  cut  that  one  short !  But  I  give 
it  up  —  the  wedding  present ;  I  can't  guess, 
and  I  don't  care  specially,  so  long  as  you 
come  along  with  it." 

"  I  shall  come  with  it,  and  in  it,  if  the 
faithful  Johnson  will  steer  me,  —  it 's  going 
to  be  a  new  motor  !  " 

"  Well,  you  owe  it  to  me,  Virginia  !  "  he 
cried  with  enthusiasm,  "  for  mine  is  n't  worth 
a  brass  farthing1  at  this  moment.  I  knew 

o 

before  I  had  been  at  Grey  Tor  twenty-four 
hours  that  it  was  going  to  be  knocked  into 
smithereens,  but  I  had  n't  the  pluck  to  take 
it  or  myself  out  of  harm's  way.  Now  we 
are  both  done  for  !  " 

"  Which  do  you  prefer  ?  "  I  asked,  "your 
old  motor  or  me  ?  " 

"  You,  with  a  new  one,"  he  answered  un- 
blushingly.  "  We  '11  take  our  wedding  jour 
ney  in  it,  shall  we  ?  Early  this  autumn  would 
be  a  good  time." 

"  And  mamma  and  Cecilia  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
Gill  can  follow  behind  with  Greytoria." 


220       THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN 

"I  don't  mind  their  trying  to  follow," 
Archibald  responded  genially,  as  he  lighted 
his  pipe,  "  so  long  as  they  never  catch  up ; 
and  they  never  will  —  not  with  that  little 
brute ! " 


Electrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &*  Ct. 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


THREE  DELIGHTFUL   STORIES 

By  MRS.   W1GGIN 
for  Anybody,  Young  or  Old,  who  cares  to  read  them 

The 

BIRDS'  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

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TIMOTHY'S  QUEST 

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THE  DIARY  OF  A  GOOSE  GIRL 

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A  CATHEDRAL  COURTSHIP  AND 
PENELOPE'S  ENGLISH  EXPERIENCES 

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